Title: When The Devil Can't Save Himself

Word Count: n/a yet

Rating: PG-13, maybe R at one point

Warnings/Spoilers: All of season 1, aired season 2 and spoilers for 2.10 and 2.12 through 2.14.

Summary: Bart Bass. Shot. Dead. Murdered. Chuck Bass was broken, and he was pretty sure he couldn't be fixed. That wouldn't stop her from trying.

Official Disclaimer: All Gossip Girl plots and characters belong to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz and the CW. I do not own the company or the people. The characters in this story are not mine.

Author's Note: Here's the first chapter! Thank you guys so much for your feedback and for encouraging me to continue this. I hope this chapter lives up to the prologue. Right now I'm just trying to build the story; the real drama is coming later. And one more thing, you're going to notice in this story that, as it progresses, Chuck is going to seem colder and meaner, and Blair is going to be more selfless and helpful. It might be a bit OOC for her, but again, this story is based on just a few spoiler pictures, a video and a couple of sides for 2.14. It's hard to tell from those how the actual plot will turn out.

The day of the funeral was appropriate for the occasion. The sky was a gloomy gray, clouds hanging low over New York's skyscrapers. It had been raining on and off all morning, rain drops splattering against windows and dampening the ground like tears.

Blair tucked another piece of long, smooth dark hair behind one of her trademark headbands and stared into the mirror. She couldn't bring herself to smile at her perfectly made-up reflection, or even make any sort of facial expression at all. She felt empty inside, drained of energy that she hadn't known she'd had in the first place.

It wasn't the fact that Bart Bass was dead. She knew she shouldn't say so, shouldn't even think it, considering the circumstances, but she couldn't care less about Bart Bass. His alternating between constant cruelty and indifference to Chuck had deemed him bad in Blair's mind. No, it was the fact that Chuck was no longer Chuck. He was small and lost and drunk or high all day and night. He didn't ooze the same sensual appeal as he always had, his clothes were rumpled and his eyes were bleary, no longer sparkling with that same perverted glint as they used to.

She hadn't seen much of him since the night she'd found him in 1812. All she'd heard was news from Serena and Eric; Chuck passed out here, there, upstairs. Lily didn't seem to notice that Chuck always stumbled into the penthouse at an ungodly hour, if he even came home at all.

Blair had called him every day, letting the phone ring in her ear until she hit his voicemail. "Leave a message and I might listen to it." His voice seemed so carefree, like he'd had the world in his reach. Maybe he had. But that Chuck was gone, replaced by someone vulnerable and alone, someone that covered up emotions with a swig of scotch. Someone that needed saving, someone that needed her to save them.

Things had been perfect for a little while…or as perfect as they could be with Chuck Bass for a boyfriend. Boyfriend. When they'd run into each other at the Snowflake Ball a few weeks ago, they'd shared some banter and a drink before ending up on the dance floor. She was cradled in his arms; their hands linked, his palm spread on the small of her back. They'd touched each other gently; carefully…electricity running through their fingertips as they'd stared into each other's eyes.

Soon, his soft pink lips had been inches from hers and she had been ready to give into his touch and kiss him, just softly. A friendly kiss. But then he'd whispered, "Blair, I'm tired of waiting. I can't stay away from you," and she'd melted at the warmth in his eyes as their lips touched in a flurry of romance and passion. Before she knew it, he'd had her pressed against a wall in the dimly lit hallway to the ballroom and he was kissing her all over.

"I'll take you to the movies, I'll hold your hand…" Her body had grown hotter as his kisses grew messier, trailing down her cheek to her ears, her neck, her collarbone. "I'll do anything for you, Blair." They were pressed so close together, she could feel his heart beating. "I…need…you…." Kiss after kiss after kiss. She'd only moaned against his lips. Who needed "I love you" when they had this?

Blair shook herself away from the memory. What had happened in the past was in the past. She loved Chuck and all she wanted for him was his happiness. She wished she could give that to him.

She remembered holding him next to the bar in his suite a few nights ago, feeling his body tremble underneath her fingertips. She had stayed with him all night; calming him down. She'd seen his eyes well up with tears every once in a while, but he never let a single one escape. He hadn't spoken much, either. A simple "I'm sorry," when he'd seen how late it was and how she wasn't leaving, a pained noise when they'd turned on the TV to find that Bart's death was the main news on all the local channels. Blair wished she could do more to help him, but a boy, no matter how tough, needed his father, and she certainly wasn't that.

"Blair!" Her bedroom door banged open and her best friend rushed in, a flurry of blonde hair, coat unbuttoned and dress flowing against black tights. "Hurry up!"

"Patience is a virtue, Serena. Just because it's a day of mourning doesn't mean I don't need to look presentable." Blair tugged her fingers through her straightened hair again, giving her outfit a long once-over. Her blue sweater complimented her black dress and her black knit tights made her legs look longer…she was distracting herself, she knew. She knew outfits didn't matter today.

"Sure, patience is all well and good, but not when my brother is missing!" Serena frantically ran a hand through her hair, messing it up even more.

"Brother? Eric?" Blair turned away from the mirror and reached over to open a drawer. She pulled out a pair of long, black gloves and slid them on. It was cold out, wasn't it? She could practically hear the wind howling. The sound was eerie and fitting. She hated funerals. Who liked them?

"No, step-brother…whatever! Chuck! Your boyfriend!" Serena's sentences got more and more jumbled, but Blair got the jist of what she was saying. Chuck…missing…her blood ran cold. "He didn't come home last night, and no one's been able to reach him."

"Oh, god." Blair didn't give a second glance to her reflection as she streaked out the door past Serena, running on the toes of her black heels. Who knew what Chuck could have done to himself this time?

Blair and Serena were breathless and panting. They'd been dashing all over the city for an hour, running from bar to bar to hotel to restaurant. Chuck wasn't in any of them. It was almost as if he'd just disappeared.

"What now?" Serena looked down at Blair. "I can't think of anywhere else to go." She sighed tiredly. "Maybe we should just go back to the Palace. We probably just crossed paths or something."

"Oh, aren't you the optimist." Blair shook her head. "I'm not stopping, Serena. I'm going to find him."

Serena let a small smile play at her lips. "Blair, this is totally normal for him. He's been like this all week. He'll be fine. He'll make it home, he'll get to the funeral eventually."

Blair had stopped listening to Serena minutes ago. "Wait a second…" She thought back to about two months ago, the deal she'd made with Chuck. How he'd gently kissed her cheek to seal it for the first time, untied her robe to seal it for the second. How she'd found him in one of the back rooms of the van der Bass penthouse, staring into Vanessa's eyes. The whole thing about that bar in Brooklyn…Chuck loved that place. He desperately wanted to buy it, to have something to call his own. She'd ruined that. Blair felt a twinge of guilt, but the panging in her heart was overshadowed by the relief that flooded her when her realization came. "I know where he is."

Blair's assumption had been dead-on. They stared through the dirty windows at the long table inside the Brooklyn Inn. Chuck was slouched on a barstool, head resting in his crossed arms. There was an empty bottle of scotch next to him, an empty glass. He looked empty, sitting there all alone amongst the colorful glass bottles and dark wood décor.

Blair strode purposefully to the door, shoving it with both gloved hands. It just rattled in its frame and didn't move. She knocked against the door with a sturdy fist, hoping to alert some kind of employee or even wake up Chuck in the process, but no one came.

After a few more knocks, Serena joined in until they were both pounding on the doors, their heads jolting back and forth with each hit. Finally, a man swung the doors open and eyed them. "You here for him?"

Blair nodded, pushing past the man and stepping inside. "How long has he been here?" she asked, looking at Chuck's figure, his head leaning onto the tabletop a few feet away. She walked softly towards him, her heels clacking against the wood-paneled floor.

"Since last night." The man shrugged his broad shoulders. "I figure I would let him be. He seemed pretty out of it."

Blair bit her lip as Serena stood quietly behind her. She leaned over Chuck and gently touched his shoulder, shaking him. "Chuck, wake up. Wake up."

Chuck was sure he was dead, or at least halfway there. The blinding pain in his head, the blinding lights burning into his eyes, the blinding noise of someone's voice echoing somewhere far, far above him. He tried to blink, but his eyelids felt too heavy to open. The feeling of someone shaking him felt like it was rattling every bone in his body.

"Mmmffgg." A muffled groan was the only sound he could seem to make, until he felt a soft hand lift his chin, pulling his head up. Skin on skin, flushing his exhausted body with warmth. He would know that touch anywhere.

With much effort, Chuck opened his eyelids. The room was hazy and unfocused, the mild light coming through the windows too much for him to view through the tired, filmy blur that covered his dark eyes. It seemed as if he'd finally succeeded in drinking himself into a trance. The longer he could stay like this, the easier it would be to keep going. To forget.

"Chuck?" Blair's angelic face came into his line of vision, worry clouding her glittering eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Okay? No, I'm not okay. How could I be fucking okay?" Chuck balled his hands into fists and rubbed at his eyes furiously. Reality was slowly coming back to him, the spurts of realization making his body cold with sadness and fear. "It's the day of my own father's fucking funeral. How could I be okay?" Chuck had to swallow hard. His entire body was shaking again, his thoughts jumbled messily in his head.

Suddenly, Blair's arms were enveloping him, the feeling of her body his only source of comfort. He hated feeling this way. He hated this sympathy. He was Chuck Bass. He didn't need anyone.

To be continued.

Author's Note: Again, thank you for reading and thanks for everyone for reviewing on the last chapter. That includes: princetongirl, , 2ndstar2daRight2, liveontheedge, xcrazyangelx1800, TheMusicLives, Princess Persephone, fizliz23 and unefeeallumee. Special thanks to Beth (TheMusicLives) for telling me about the problem with my summary :) Please keep on reviewing and telling me what you think!