Title: When The Devil Can't Save Himself

Word Count: n/a yet

Rating: PG-13, maybe R at one point

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 Ziegeser, Josh Schwartz and the CW. I do not own the company or the people. The characters featured in this story are not mine.

Author's Note: Chapter three! Hooray! I'm sorry it took so long to get out, but I've been really busy this past week. About this chapter...well...Jack Bass makes an appearance. If you haven't seen the pictures of the guy that plays him, you really should check them out, because he does have a scary resemblance to Bart. Anyway, hardly any Chuck POV this chapter. :( I know this is supposed to be a Chuck-centric story and the plot is, but the narrative parts just aren't turning out that way. I promise a lot more Chuck in future chapters though. Sorry if this chapter seems kind of rushed. I tried my best, but like I said, I've been crazy busy lately. Thank god there have been filming pictures and sides to give me inspiration. :D Oh, and most of the Blair/Jack dialogue in this chapter is taken from 2.14 sides. The rest of it are my original ideas. Anyway, I'll let you read now. I hope this chapter gets as good of a response as 'Funerals and Fistfights' did. Not as much drama...more of a filler...I'm rambling.

Time passed, and soon Blair had gone two weeks without seeing or hearing from Chuck. Her phone sat unmoving on her beside table all night and was cradled in her palm all day as she glanced down every five minutes, praying she would get a call that would at least tell her that he was okay.

But no call came. The screen remained blank, a sharp image of her and Chuck (pre-Tuscany-disaster, pre-Vanessa-disaster, pre-Bart-disaster), his scarf draped around both of their necks, their matching heads of dark hair pressed together; serving as her background. Everything was so simple then. So easy.

Chuck had been there, always, since they were little. He'd never disappeared without calling or communicating with anyone, even through a voicemail or a text message sent from Monaco or LA, where he would be covered head-to-toe in models and having the time of his life. But with no recognition that he was even alive, it scared her half to death to know that he could be anywhere right then. He didn't have anyone to look after him, show concern that he'd missed weeks of school and that his empty room was now covered in cracked bottles of scotch and broken glasses. It smelled like a mixture of alcohol, cologne, sweat and marijuana; a smell that was one hundred percent Chuck, but so strong that it was almost pungent. Blair couldn't stand looking in there, thinking about what used to be.

Blair had spoken with Serena about how afraid she was, but Serena had brushed her off. She was still annoyed with Chuck about him knocking Dan out at the funeral, and she showed it with every piercing gaze that she sent Blair's way. It was clear that Serena didn't understand why she was still involved with him, much less worried about him.

Lily hadn't ventured out much since Bart's death either. All Blair had seen of her was in the van der Bass (or was it just van der Woodsen now?) penthouse and it was often when she was dressed casually and wearing large sunglasses that covered what were sure to be thickly red-rimmed eyes. It was partly guilt, Blair assumed, that caused her to hide herself away. When Bart had been shot, Lily had been at the Snowflake Ball in a gorgeous white gown, clinging to the arms of her apparent lover, Dan and Jenny's father, Rufus. Blair felt a twinge of sympathy for the perpetually stoic, unemotional Bart and the awful way it would feel to know that your wife was in love with another man.

The only person that had really paid much attention to Blair the past few weeks (besides her minions at school; they still followed her around in their identical headbands, perching at her feet for lunch on the steps and following her lead in the hallways, despite her darting glances up and down her insistent route through the boy's hall) was Eric. He also missed Chuck crazily; he had left when they had just begun to get closer. Eric was the brother Chuck never had, and although Chuck would usually eagerly pick up a call from Eric, he hadn't been able to reach him either.

Blair missed him. Every last bit of him. His possessive smirk, his crazy patterned suits, the way his eyes went from a piercing deep black to a cloudy caramel color when she would lie on top of him and he would look at her between hungry kisses. She even missed the cold, angry Chuck from the funeral, with the sunken eyes and the pale cheeks, clenching his jaw to keep a mixture of wildly angry tears of frustration and horribly broken tears of grief from streaming down his face.

She would give anything to hold him, to have him back next to her. Every minute felt like hours, every hour felt like days. Each week dragged on until she was sure it had been years and she couldn't even look at herself without seeing him. She was absent-minded, distracted in school. Her hair was a mess. All she could think of was how amazing it would feel to have him back in her arms, to have the power to help him, to change something.

After a particularly extended and therefore dreadful day, Blair's inner schemer kicked in. But what she was about to do wasn't exactly up to her usual standards. Nothing had been lately. After a couple hours of sitting on her bed, staring out the window at the New York skyline, Blair only came to the conclusion that she had to talk to Lily and figure out where the hell Chuck was and how the hell she was supposed to get him home, where he belonged.

"For the last time, Blair, I don't know where he is!" Lily rubbed her temples, her eyes shaded over with the thick black glasses once again. Blair had managed to get her out to brunch and into a nondescript looking pink dress. It was the first time in weeks she'd left the penthouse. Lily's hair was as butter-blond and glossy as always, but her arms and legs looked thin and pale, leading Blair to think that she was taking this harshly as well.

Blair leaned over the table, smiling sweetly at the mother of her best friend. Her straightened hair was tucked beneath a blue silk headband and her makeup was pristine, but her heart didn't feel nearly as orderly as her appearance seemed to suggest. "Well, then do you know of anyone that might?

Lily pressed her carefully painted lips together and shook her head, waves of perfect blond hair swinging back and forth. "I don't…"

Blair sighed and leaned back in her chair, adjusting her blue cardigan and playing with the remaining food on her plate, twirling her silver fork in her hand. This was great. Just fucking great. What if she never found him? "Well, all right, thank you, Lily. I'll just be going now." Blair lifted her coat and bag from the floor and turned towards large glass doors that signaled the exit.

"Wait!" Lily waved a hand for Blair to come back to the table and she obliged, shrugging off her jacket and sitting down again. "I remember he has an uncle that lives somewhere upstate. Bart's brother…Jack, I think it might be. According to Bart, Chuck has always enjoyed time with him. Maybe I could track down his number for you."

Blair's body surged with relief and anticipation. "Yes!" she practically shouted. "Thank you so much."

She needed Chuck and Chuck needed her much, much more. The thought of being able to see him, to hold him, even to talk to him after two weeks of complete silence created a rush of emotions through her.

She missed him. Wanted him. Craved him. And despite the current circumstances, Blair couldn't keep her body from its automatic reaction to the two words, "Chuck Bass." Butterflies begin to flutter and flinch in her stomach and somehow the room seemed a little big bigger, a little brighter and airier.

Now she just had to find that uncle and everything would be back to normal.

Or not.

It took Blair and Lily spent two hours of shifting through boxes of stuff and old, forgotten phonebooks of Bart's, filled with numbers scrawled so fast they were almost unreadable, to find Jack's number. Blair handled each leather-bound book delicately; something about touching Bart's old things was sort of eerie. But eventually they uncovered it and the number was in her hands as she phoned Jack Bass.

His gravely voice over the line assured her that he would look for Chuck, and Blair let out a breath that she was sure she had been holding for days. She couldn't wait to have him back next to her, safe.

But instead of being greeted with a healthy (albeit probably a little drunk or high) Chuck, she was met with something much, much worse.

Blair stood out side the van der Bass apartment building, dressed in a red coat, her perfect ringlets blowing in the cold winter breeze. Dorota was next to her, tapping her black-shoed foot anxiously.

The Bass limo pulled up after only a few minutes of waiting out in the freezing air. The sleek black of the limo looked slightly out of place against the cloudy skies as the wind whipped against the dry streets, but both Dorota and Blair sucked in a breath of anticipation nonetheless.

The doorman hurried out to open the limo door, and as his palm clenched around the handle and pulled it open with a click, a handsome older man stepped out. He had a younger version of Bart's chiseled and detached face and Chuck's perfectly combed deep brown hair, but his eyes were frighteningly bright blue and had a sparkle of wildness dancing in the corners.

Blair felt slightly guarded. So this was Jack Bass. She wasn't expecting someone so…Chuck-like. The resemblance to both him and Bart was a little creepy, and the expectant look on her face was immediately replaced with her mask of sheer bitchiness.

"Blair!" Jack waved a hand in air gallantly, gesturing to the limo he had just stepped out of. He moved a bit closer to her and Blair felt the need to step back, his eyes leering at her. "You came to greet us."

Blair couldn't help but glare at him; he was so cocky. His attitude reminded her of Chuck, but from a different era, before she'd seen his softer side. This was Chuck without emotions, a Chuck that only wanted money and booze and women. She could see it in his eyes, the way he ogled her legs, clad in white tights and red heels.

Yes, no matter what he'd done for her to bring Chuck back, Blair could say that she already despised Jack Bass.

"Not you," Blair finally answered. "Chuck. You said you found him."

Jack smirked, finally lifting his eyes from her legs. "In Bangkok." He nodded egotistically and Blair rolled her eyes, annoying at his arrogance. "He was staying at our hotel there."

Blair breathed a sigh of comfort. Chuck was okay. She was about to demand to see him when Jack continued to ramble on. "You know, you hear the term 'den of iniquity,' but until you really see one…"

"Do you have him or not?" Blair interrupted. She was getting impatient, and an impatient Blair Waldorf wasn't something that was easily dealt with.

Jack stopped his disjointed mumble of facts and various things about Chuck that Blair didn't really care to know, and instead yanked open the limo door once again. "Nephew of mine? On eat arrivee."

Dorota grasped the edge of Blair's sleeve in a nervous hand as they both stared into the darkness of the limo's leather interior, both slightly of afraid of what might come out. Blair's whole body was practically buzzing with nerves and anticipation, but they dulled as she waited, nothing appearing from the limo for what felt like years.

Jack sighed, exasperated, and reached into the car, pulling out an unconscious Chuck. Blair gasped the second she saw him, because he didn't look like her Chuck at all. He was wearing wrinkled blue velour pants and his hair was a wild mess, not sleek and side-parted like usual but falling into his closed eyes. He was pale and weak, his entire body reeking with the smell of scotch and cigarettes. Blair couldn't do anything but stare at what he'd become in just two short weeks away from home.

Jack looked unperturbed, though, and proceeded to drag the half-dead Chuck towards the wide glass doors of the building. "Could you tell his teachers he's taking a personal day?" he yelled over his shoulder as the doorman, looking rather disturbed, opened the door to let the Bass men pass through.

Blair watched them go and Dorota noticed the faraway look in her eyes. "Are you worried, Miss Blair?"

She nodded silently. If she didn't help him, Chuck would reverse back to how he used to be. Always half-drunk, partially stoned, women draped all over him at parties, kissing his mouth, his ears, his neck. And in fifteen years, he would become just another Jack Bass, another jackass, and the man she fell in love with would be gone forever. Not to mention, with how awful he'd looked just then, Blair was a little afraid he would self-destruct in the process.

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter was so short. I was going to make it longer, but I figured I'd drag it out a little more. Please, please, please review! It makes my day and lets me know that you appreciate what I'm writing. Also, thanks to everyone that reviewed on the last chapter. That includes: suspensegirl, XcrossingjordanX, Bella012, Princess Persephone, xxktnxx, doubleAntics, Ollywood3, fizliz23, xcrazyangelx1800, chairalltheway, princetongirl, SnowedUnderNJ, TheCutie, SammieK, nicolexox123 and bluestriker666. Thank you guys so much and keep on reading and reviewing! xD