Soulless
"Evil is a point of view."
By Isabelle
Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl or its characters.
Rating: M
Summary: Vampires don't get obsessed with pictures left on their graves; pictures of lovely brunettes and chubby baby boys. Vampires are soulless and evil. He didn't know their names, but he knew they were special. She must've been special to him, and that thought alone haunted him. All he knew was that he wanted her for himself, even if he had to kill her to get her. Chuck/Blair.
A/N: Tati is the most wonderful, most talented BETA in the whole wide world.
"It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words."
Anne Rice
Blair was shaking. Even her hands trembled; she was so tired, frustrated and afraid. With unsteady fingers, she reached for her silk slip and slid it over her head, cherishing the contact with her flushed skin.
She took deep calming breaths. Deep breaths. She tossed the towel with her foot and sat at her vanity, combing her hair. She began counting the strokes. As she counted them, she began to crumble. The entire day had been an ordeal, and she had never felt as alone as she did in that moment.
With her brush still in her hair, she let out a sob. She attempted to stifle it with her hand, but her tears came forward regardless, dribbling down her cheeks. She cried softly but deeply, and flashes of memories came to her as she remembered how optimistic she was about what life had in store for her before Chuck died.
She remembered painting the nursery three times. They had thought Brenton would be a girl until her 6th month of pregnancy, after which he had indeed shown his true colors. She remembered Chuck adamantly advocating for purple and black for his son's room, which she informed him was out of the question. The sneaky bastard had the room redone in green with black trim and then some purple accents when she left for an overnight trip to the beach with Serena. Which she had let slide because it had looked beautiful and perfect for their baby boy. Now she dared not change it. It had been his creation.
She wished she had never known Chuck. Never loved him. Never had him. Never experienced such horrible heartbreak. It was worse than anything she had ever felt. In times past, when they had broken up, she always had this glimmer of hope that life would find a way to place them once more in each other's path. Life seemed to agree with her, because they always returned to one another. Always. No matter the fuck ups, the misunderstandings, the lies, the pain – the epic journey had led them down the aisle because they belonged to one another. She had tried to move on from him, time after time, but her heart was sold on him though her mind protested. She loved that ridiculous bastard and his loud ties and arrogant demeanor. She loved him and married him, and now he left her in the most cruel joke fate had yet to play.
Yet.
Mack's eyes dilated to a deep dark black hue as he watched her bend over, showing him a perfect view of her ass and cunt as she rummaged through her drawer for her slip. His cock instantly came to life; never had he felt it respond so quickly. It was as if it knew her parts, and they were aching to be united once more. He pressed his hand against it, attempting to calm it down, which only served to make it even harder, if that was even possible.
He watched as she slipped her gown over head and let it shimmy down her hips. Those delectable hips in which he longed to dig his fingers until they shaded pink. He watched as she kicked the towel lightly over the rug and then turned to sit at her vanity, combing her hair.
He watched as she combed her hair in a militant fashion, as if counting the strokes to ensure it got the treatment it needed. He was quite taken with her dedication to detachment, as if the world would damn her for falling apart.
He didn't have to wait long to watch her actually crumble right before his eyes.
He watched as her eyes widened, as the tears began to fall, as she sunk, all pride gone. She let out a choked sound from the back of her throat and cried quietly in the dark confines of her lonely room.
All thought of sex were banished from his head as he watched her painful descent. She was beautiful when broken, too, he marveled. She was a broken porcelain doll, hard as stone but even more easily shattered.
She was majestic.
He felt the stirrings tugging at his chest, and this time he was so distracted by the gothic misery before him that he did nothing to qualm them; he did nothing to stop them until he felt himself softening for her.
He carefully walked out of the closet, conscious of making no noise for fear of breaking such a picturesque display, and stood right behind her, watching her watch herself in the mirror. He was in a trance, a hypnotic dream that he did not want to wake from. So, without fault of his own, he slowly reached out his pale hand towards the crumbling beauty before him and gently placed his hand on her head.
She was so caught in her sorrow that she didn't feel his hand at first. So he continued, driven by the ethereal need to comfort her and have her be happy – something he never thought he would desire. And still, he wasn't questioning his decision now.
"Don't cry, Blair. Don't cry," he murmured in the softest of whispers.
He felt her shoulders instantly tense, and he quickly rushed to the shadows, hiding his visage from her before she could even turn. She was startled, to say the least, making the chair stumble on to the floor as she stood, taking deep breaths and holding her brush high as a weapon.
He felt her erratic heartbeat, pumping much-loved blood through her heart, pumping delicious life. His mouth watered despite his fear that he had killed it. Killed the moment. That soft glorious moment where he could be pretend to be the ghost of her lover now past and gone.
"Who's there?" She demanded, and her voice was strong and sure, nothing like the broken woman he had just witnessed. He sunk further into the shadows by her closet.
She didn't take her eyes off the spot he occupied.
"You just made the biggest mistake by coming here," she declared, her voice firm and ever haughty.
It made him chuckle involuntarily, and she paused, cocking her head. The moon outside bathed the room with its soft blue glow, mystifying them, locking them in time. He wondered if he was really even there. If it was all just a dream – one of his many dreams of her.
"Don't you even know who I am?" She said, her voice never wavering. He had to admire her. For someone as scared as her heart cried that she was, she gave nothing away in her voice. The world would never know that she was less than perfect. But he could see right through it; he could feel her imperfection. Taste it.
He was supposed to remain quiet. He was supposed to rush forward, pull her head back and sink his teeth into her pale exposed neck. Drink in her life; destroy her so that he could live. Kill her so he could live.
That was the plan.
The plan obviously went to hell when he spoke.
"Blair Bass," he whispered.
Her face paled and she gulped, her heart beating even more furiously. So much so that he thought she might go into cardiac arrest. He'd seen it before in the old and the sick when they saw him and his demon visage.
"Step into the light," she demanded.
He took a sharp breath and slowly walked into the moonlight, the glow revealing his features. She stared at him, transfixed, her brown doe eyes wide as her brush-yielding hand slowly was lowered.
"Chuck…" she whispered, broken. "You're haunting me."
"Hunting is more like it," he smirked, looking her right in the eye.
She was in a trance, not moving, not breathing. He was afraid he'd killed her before he wanted to.
"I'm driving myself insane…" she continued to whisper, dropping her brush to the floor in a soft thump.
He walked another step, and she took a sharp breath.
"I know who you think I am. But I can't remember you. And I'm not Chuck Bass," he whispered, walking a bit closer to her, so close that finally he could feel her warm breath on his skin.
She didn't move; she just stared.
"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" She wondered aloud, her voice softer as a small smile finally appeared on her face. "This is the best of dreams…"
Slowly his pale, temperate hand reached out and touched her face.
Her eyes widened and, when his skin made contact with hers, he felt a shot of electricity. Fireworks running from his fingers straight into his soul.
"I came to kill you," he informed her, his voice shaky. She reached out and placed her small hand over his, sandwiching it there. It was marvelous. She obviously must've thought so too, because she closed her eyes, leaning into him.
"I don't want to wake up," she murmured.
He had her where he wanted her. She was fulfilling his every desire. He could feel her, smell her, want her. Take her.
Take her now, his demon screamed.
Make her yours.
If you so desire her, make her a child of the night so that you may have her forever. Make her your Queen, the Queen of the Night so that she may rule at your side.
These thoughts, harsh whispers and tormented words, rushed through his head.
He felt the heat of her skin, the life that she possessed, plainly against his hand. He needed her.
"I came to kill you," he repeated, and her eyes fluttered opened.
Then they widened as if she were shocked that he was still there, still before her.
"Chuck?" She asked, her brows furrowed.
Make her your Queen. Kill her. Take her now.
She was so fresh, so clean, so beautiful, so alive…
He felt his fangs elongate, taking a life of their own. In his dreams, when he had bared his fangs, she had not been scared. She had even caressed them, asked for her own pair, and let him drink from her in the most erotic of ways.
But the real Blair, upon seeing his fangs, shifted and then pulled back, stumbling backwards until her back hit the wall behind her. Her head shook from side to side.
"I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming," she murmured.
Take her now.
He stalked to her, and she did something she never did in his dreams. She screamed.
An ear-piercing scream that caused her knees to buckle. He was faster, and his arms captured her before she hit the floor. In his arms she lay, limp and lifeless, wearing only a little slip.
Her long hair cascaded over his forearm, the soft silk of it enticing him even more.
Outside of the room he heard voices, a child crying and a maid calling for "Ms. Blair."
Mack thought quickly. He looked down at the beauty in his arms, and then he looked at the door. He could drain her before they even made it in. Leave them to find her. The warmth of her smooth skin scorched him, scorched him like a witch would.
"Ms. Blair!"
The steps were more frantic, but the child seemed to have stopped crying.
Mack did something that would perhaps change his fate forever. Scooping the brunette into his arms and holding her against his chest, he ran to the balcony. He looked over the city of lights and, without further thought, took her with him, jumping out into the night.
When Lily Humphrey stormed into the home, the police were already on the scene and so was her daughter, who was crying silently as she held little Brenton in her arms.
"Mom!" Serena cried when she spotted her.
Lily quickly kissed the baby's head; he was asleep on top of his aunt, suckling on his pacifier.
"They can't find her, Mom, they say someone most likely broke in –"
"Miss Lily!" Dorota shoved some officers around and ran to the older woman. "She gone, Miss Lily! They took my Miss Blair!"
Lily's heart beat erratically as she attempted to understand what was happening.
"Who's in charge, who can I talk to?" She demanded, moving around the room.
"I'm Detective Wright, I'm in charge of this investi –"
"My name is Lily Humphrey, and I demand an explanation. I also demand that you find my daughter-in-law within 24 hours," Lily began to count off. "I will personally call the mayor, who happens to be a cousin of the missing girl's father."
Brenton began whimpering in Serena's arms, disturbed by the commotion that his grandmother brought with her.
"Mom," Serena hissed. "You're waking up Brenton."
Lily had the decency to look ashamed.
"Mrs. Humphrey," the Det. Wright began. "I understand the urgency, but we do not know yet if this is a case of the young lady running away –"
"Ms. Blair not leave the baby!" Dorota interrupted.
"She's right. Blair would never leave her child," Lily nodded. "She did not run away."
"Someone took her – she was on a date, wasn't she on a date?" Serena said, frazzled. At that moment, Nate arrived with his hair messed up, making Serena gulp.
"What the hell happened?" He asked, walking over.
"Blair's been kidnapped," Lily hissed to Nate but at the direction of the Detective.
"What –" Nate was still usually confused.
"Well, we technically have no –"
"Mom, please, don't say that!" Serena cried, holding the baby closer.
"When did this happen?" Nate practically yelled, glancing at Serena who carefully avoided his eyes. "How did this happen? This building has the best security in all of New York."
Dorota cried into her tissue, and the Detective sighed.
"My team and I will do our best –"
"Wait a second, if this is kidnapping, then it's federal," Nate declared, and Serena's brows rose. Apparently he was learning something in law school.
"Nate, could you –" Lily began, but Nate was already ahead of her.
"Yes, I'll call my grandfather, see what we can do." He swiftly turned on his heels towards the elevator once more. Serena turned to look at him and followed, rocking Brenton in her arms.
"Nate –"
"I'll send Lily an update once I find something." He stared ahead at the elevator.
"Nate, please," Serena begged, and Breton began to fuss in her arms. "Please look at me."
She watched his jaw work over his handsome face, but he didn't give in. What he did was turn and place his hand over Brenton's soft hair, caressing him slightly and smiling softly at the words on his little t-shirt. Serena's eyes watered again, and Brenton settled down, limp against Serena's chest.
"Be a good boy for your aunt," Nate whispered to Brenton, kissing his head. The elevator opened and he stepped in, letting it close behind him.
Serena's tears dribbled down her face, and she felt her mother next to her.
"You can't blame him, Serena. You practically left him at the altar," her mother reminded her.
Serena shuddered, but nodded anyway. "Right…" She shifted Brenton. "Let me put him in his crib. I'll stay the night."
Lily watched her daughter bury her nose in the baby's hair and take him down the hallway.
Because Brenton usually woke her around 6:30 am every morning, her internal clock was already set. She sat up panting, her eyes wide. It was much earlier than that.
What a dream! That was her first thought as she woke. The next was… Where the hell am I?
She scrambled out of the bed, hitting the floor and looking around in shock.
"Oh, God…" she whispered. She ran to the door and yanked it opened. She stepped back, realizing that she was in a grand hotel room. A dark and ominous room, but still modern and elegant.
It reminded her of…
She shook her head as she stepped out into it, taking in her surroundings.
"This isn't happening," she whispered to herself.
But just then, none other than Chuck Bass walked before her, dressed impeccably in a sharp suit and red tie and a glass of Scotch at hand.
She felt her entire world drop from under her feet. She felt herself questioning reality and dreams. Everything was jumbled, everything was wrong.
She shook her head even more as he calmly took a sip of his drink, his eyes dark.
"Try not to faint this time," he murmured, and all of the hairs on her arm stood to attention at his words. It was him. Same voice, same whispering throaty voice, same Chuck.
"Chuck…"
"My name is Mack. Mack Pendragon," he said slowly.
"Chuck…" she whispered again, coming closer.
Her heart was erratically beating, and she felt flushed. And angry. And happy. How could one have so many conflicting emotions in the span of such short time?
"You're… you're –" she murmured, still speechless.
"Alive?" He asked, and then chuckled, drinking some Scotch. His chuckle made her shiver. "Hardly. I can assure you that I'm very much dead."
"Then I'm dreaming," she nodded. "This makes sense. I'm dreaming, hallucinating because of my mini breakdown over Brenton's reaction to his vaccine, and that fact that you left me," she snapped at Chuck's apparition.
He tilted his head, staring at her ramblings.
"I just need to wake up. Brenton is probably hungry, I need to wake up," she said, taking a deep breath, and then pinched the inside of her arm.
"You're not dreaming," Chuck assured her.
She turned to him cautiously and looked him over.
"I am real," he said softly and set his tumbler down. "But I am not Chuck Bass."
Blair stared at him for a long while. He had the same features, same hair, same voice, same mannerisms, same Chuck. Her Chuck.
"Is this a joke? Is this a sick joke?" She demanded, her temper rising. She had some thoughts on who would find this amusing. "Did Jack Bass send you?"
Chuck blinked at her. "Who is Jack Bass?"
He was sincere in his voice.
"Georgina Sparks?" She challenged.
He shook his head slowly. "No."
She stayed silent, looking at him; she was becoming more and more exasperated as the minutes ticked by. Standing there before him, seeing him in the flesh and hearing him claim that he was not Chuck, was incredible. It spun her around, made her think of things that she hadn't allowed herself to think of since she had buried him.
"Chuck Bass… He was your husband, wasn't he?"
She was having an out of body experience. She felt her skin grow moist, but she didn't know if she should run or hide.
She slowly nodded.
"There are things you don't understand…" he said slowly, and suddenly she saw a bit of a shift in his appearance. She looked into his eyes, knowing she always could tell… her Chuck wasn't there. He was gone. Had run away further than he had when his father died. He was vacant and lost. And then she spotted something funny in his teeth.
She instantly backed away.
"You're a smart girl, Blair. I'll give you a riddle," he murmured. "How can a dead man walk and talk without actually being a man?"
"This isn't happening," she mumbled. "This is not right. You're not right."
"I certainly am not," he seethed, his face turning to anger. "I have lived and loved living and fucking anything that I wanted for five hundred years. Until – UNTIL –" He grabbed her upper shoulders, making her yelp. " – you invaded my life. Coming to me, making me weak," he spat.
Blair tried to push against him, but he was so strong, so very strong.
"What makes you so special, ah? What makes you so very special? So, you see, I have had no choice but to come here and destroy you. Destroy you –"
"Chuck, please – you're hurting me!" She cried.
"I'M NOT CHUCK BASS!" He screamed in her face.
"OH, YES YOU ARE!" She screamed right back, and he was taken by surprise.
No one had ever screamed at him. No one.
It made him pause, confused as to what to do. They were both breathing hard, staring at one another; her breath hot and heavy, his light and cool.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly, almost whispering. His eyes darkened as he took in her face. She hoped, hoped that in there was the man she remembered, because if she could just get him back for a mere moment…
Without thinking of the consequences and what his teeth were implying, she grabbed hold of his face gently, like she used to when he was lost in his own demons.
"I know you're in there, Chuck…" she whispered, and he let her, his eyes wide and nearly fearful. "I know don't who or what took you from me, but it's you… I'd know you anywhere. I'd know you in my sleep…"
He gulped as she caressed his face, her fingertips brushing over his cheeks.
"You love me, I know you do. You know me. I know you do," she continued. "Wake up…"
He wrenched himself from her suddenly and backed away. "What are you doing to me?" He rasped, angry now.
"I am doing nothing," she snapped. "Stop fighting it!"
"I'm fighting you –"
And then a loud gunshot was heard, and Blair jumped back, scared and shaken.
Chuck instinctively turned towards the noise, and she saw him do something she had never seen someone do. He crouched on the floor and bared his…. Fangs.
"Oh, God…" she whimpered. "This is not happening."
"Only three ways to kill a vampire," he cried to her. "One is sunlight. If there's too many of them, yank the curtains open. The sun is coming up. Don't worry about me. Two is with a stake –" He grabbed a chair next to her bed and yanked a leg off, snapping the wood and tossing her the broken piece.
She caught it, still stunned. He stalked to her. "You pierce it with all of your might – here." He pointed to his heart.
"Oh, you've got to be effing –"
"Three." She watched with wide eyes as he pulled a gun from the inside of his jacket. "Silver bullet through the head. You've got only two, so use it as last resort. If they kill me, use it to save yourself."
"This isn't happening –" Blair muttered, looking at the gun and the stake in her hand with absolute abhorrence.
The front door of the suite was pushed in with a loud thump, and Chuck crouched back to his position, fangs bared and eyes turning an eerie shade of yellow.
"Get into the room," Chuck roared to her. "Bar the door."
"Chuck –" Blair cried, fear eating at her gut as she scrambled to the room. "Come with me."
The door was torn opened and Blair screamed, closing the door behind her, her heart beating hard. This wasn't happening. This was not happening.
To be continued
a/n: I hope you all are happy with the interaction, I didn't want it to be overly corny ;) The new chapter should be up around Tuesday or so.