A/N: A big "gracias" to all my reviewers: BekaRoo (thank you, I really appreciate it!), anabelle12 (yay! feel free to say it as often as you want ;), livelovelaugh9704 (I have a feeling I'll be getting a long PM about this one, lol), and kauraREX (sorry for keeping you from your HW, haha... but I hope it's worth it?)

¡Uds. son fantásticos! (I'm working on my Spanish here... It's a little rusty. :) But I DID do translations in my other fic all by myself. I was very pleased.)

I'm a little nervous about the reactions I'll get to this one, but I hope you like it! And this will sound weird at first, but you might see a parallel to The Dark Knight. Any Batman fans here? Now, without further ado...

Chapter 21: Seven Devils

Holy water cannot help you now
A thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn
Your kingdom down
-"Seven Devils" Florence + The Machine

"How do you feel about burgundy?"

"What?" Chuck asked, looking up from the projected income graphs he was creating on his laptop to present to the Bass Industries board on Monday.

"Just, how do you feel about it?" Blair asked, propping her elbow on the table and placing her head in her hand.

"It's fine," Chuck answered with a laugh. "Why do you want to know?"

"I was thinking it might look nice in a master suite at your new hotel. I saw some bottle blond skank wearing a burgundy bandage dress at work today, and while obviously she looked terrible, the color was admittedly appealing," explained Blair, drumming her manicured nails on the wood. This week, they were a deep purple, a color fit for a queen, she'd told him.

"Sure, I trust your taste completely," said Chuck genuinely. "There isn't anyone more stylish than you."

"Except maybe you," Blair replied with a smirk and appreciative glance at his deep, forest green suit jacket.

"True. How do you feel about black?"

"Really? Black for a suite?" she asked, flabbergasted. "You can't be serious."

"Black for the hotel," Chuck announced, swiveling around his laptop to show her the completed graphs that indicated a serious projected profit margin for the new hotel.

"Very impressive," she complimented. "Black will do. And do you have your speech for the board all ready to go?"

"Yep," he said. "I'm going to finance it with my own money, but I'd still appreciate your approval and input, we'll make lots of money, and Thorpe soon won't be able to afford to buy us out. That's the gist of it at least."

"Speaking of Thorpe, have you spoken to him yet?" inquired Blair, a wrinkle settling between her brows. Not many people made her anxious, but Thorpe was one of the rare ones. He had been insisting that Chuck meet him at his office for a "man-to-man" discussion, and Blair didn't like the sound of it one bit.

"Not yet," Chuck admitted. "I'm avoiding it."

"I don't blame you," sighed Blair, tapping her fingers again. "I don't like him at all."

"Neither do I," seconded Chuck. "But it's going to happen eventually, so I guess it's better to get it over with."

"So tomorrow then?" suggested Blair, already handing him his phone. While Chuck went to make the phone call to Russell, she went back to her schoolwork, which was getting to be a real pain. Not only did she still have the Hamilton House party to plan, but also her classes were getting progressively more difficult as the semester went on, and "My not-boyfriend's multi-billion dollar company is going down, and he needs me to help save it" wasn't exactly an excuse she could use on her professors. She let her eyes scan the pages of her textbook, though she wasn't taking in any of it. Blair reached in her purse to take out her phone, deciding that it would only be for a few minutes, and then she would go back to work. When she checked her messages, she realized she had two. The first was from Serena and concerned a paper that was due for one of their classes, and the other was from Louis, with whom she had lunched, as friends only, a few times since the Ambassador's ball at the library. The first time she had accepted only out of guilt for leaving the party early without an explanation, but she soon found that his company was quite relaxing. He droned on about whatever tidbits or stories he thought she would enjoy, and she smiled and nodded and felt completely at peace. She was glad to have him as a friend, so she called him back and they set plans for another lunch the next day.

"Who was that?" asked Chuck, reentering the room.

"Oh, just Louis," she answered. Chuck still wasn't a fan of the prince, but he tolerated him and was convinced by Blair's many assurances that she had no romantic feelings for him.

"Where are you two going this time?"

"I don't know, actually. He didn't say." Blair shrugged her shoulders and picked up her heavy book, leafing through the pages until she found the one she was looking for. "Ugh, this is dreadfully boring," she complained, eyeing the excerpt from Book VII of Plato's The Republic.

"What is it?" Chuck asked, sincerely interested as to what Blair was doing in school. Since he wasn't in college, it was nice to get to vicariously experience it through Blair without having to do any of the actual work.

"The cave," she said simply.

"Ah," said Chuck, nodding in understanding. "Socrates' famous cave allegory." Blair gave him a pained look and continued her attempt to absorb the information. "You know, in the realm of Western philosophy, there's Plato, and then there's commentary, so read up."

"Who said that?" asked Blair distractedly.

"Don't remember, but it's true." Chuck sat down next to her and offered her a drink that she graciously accepted. He sipped his own scotch and watched her read with her brows furrowed and a little moue on her face. Frankly, it was adorable. "Read it to me," he proposed upon hearing her little huff of frustration. "That way, you'll have to concentrate, and then we can talk about it together."

"I don't even know why I took Philosophy," she muttered. Nevertheless, she began reading. "But, whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth in the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would act rationally, either in public or private life must have his eye fixed…" She read on into the night, and they listened to "The Cave" by Mumford & Sons and watched The Matrix (that was actually very entertaining for Chuck), after which Blair concluded that she must have a greater understanding of Book VII than the rest of her class combined.

…

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Vanessa?" Serena asked, eyeing the girl's long, flowing maxi dress and frizzy, black hair. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Vanessa shot back. "What, you didn't have enough room to make-out in your penthouse or Chuck's hotel?"

"It's not what it looks like," Serena backtracked, climbing to her feet and pulling Nate up as well.

"Then what is it?"

"We were here to see Dan," Nate explained, "and then we saw his book on the table and started reading it."

"Then I got upset about my character, Nate comforted me, and it just sort of happened," Serena finished lamely.

"Don't get me wrong," said Vanessa. "I'm very happy about," she flailed her hands in circular motions toward Nate and Serena. "This, whatever it is."

"So you're here to get Dan back?" guessed Serena.

"No, no," replied the other girl, lifting up the hem of her dress and walking to the table, where the manuscript rested. "I'm here for this."

"What? Why?"

"Dan doesn't think he's ready to publish it, but I know better, so I'm going to do it for him."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," said Nate, treading lightly with Vanessa. He knew she could have a volatile temper on occasion.

"Why not?" She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes.

"Well, he would be hurt that you went behind his back," Serena said, taking over. "And maybe he really isn't ready."

"He'll thank me later!" shouted Vanessa, snatching up the pages and ignoring the advice of Nate and Serena. "You'll see!" With that, she ran out the door before either blond had time to react.

"Wow. That was…"

"Odd," said Nate.

"Yeah."

"So, uh…" Nate began, not sure how to approach the topic of "This, whatever it is" that Vanessa had so observantly pointed out. "About earlier."

"Want to make out some more?" Serena asked suddenly. "At my place though."

"Serena, I really think we should talk about - " Serena interrupted him with her lips, and his parted of their own accord. "Yeah, let's go," he mumbled, fumbling with the doorknob as they left the loft.

"Want to talk now?" she whispered in his ear as they wrapped around each other in the cab on the way back to the Upper East Side.

"Uh-uh," Nate answered, shaking his head and pulling her closer.

"But I was going to ask if you wanted to be my BF," she said even softer, her tongue tracing the outside of his earlobe after she spoke. "What do you say?"

"Uh-huh." Serena giggled at his answer.

"Is that a yes?" she asked, gripping the sides of his shirt collar even though she already knew the answer.

"Just shut up already, Serena." And she did.

…

The next day, Chuck was feeling proud of all of the work he and Blair had completed as he entered the building belonging to Russell Thorpe. The meeting had gone exceptionally well, even better than he'd dared to hope, and he couldn't wait to give her the good news. This appointment with Russell was just a small hiccup in his otherwise perfect day.

"Mr. Bass," Russell's secretary said with a smile. "You're ten minutes early."

"Which means I'm on time," Chuck said politely, taking a seat outside Thorpe's office.

"Mr. Thorpe will be with you shortly. And I'm going to have to take your cell while you're in there. It's a security issue, and he is very serious about it. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course, I understand completely." He handed over his cell, and precisely nine and a half minutes later, Chuck was called into Russell's office and told to sit down in the chair front of his desk as if he was some dlinquent being called in to the principal's office to get a talking to. He knew what that was like, and it felt like this.

"Listen, Chuck, I'm going to be honest with you here."

"I would appreciate that," answered Chuck, his standoffish attitude nearly unable to be concealed.

"There are things you should know before I buy off Bass Industries, because I'm of the opinion that you deserve to know the truth about who Bart Bass really was," said Russell coolly, pulling out a DVD case that made Chuck's insides squirm in discomfort, not that he would let Russell know.

"What is that? Some sex tape you have of him with a lady of the night?" he scoffed.

"Much worse," Russell responded, delighting in the way Chuck's eyes darkened in fear and fury. "See for yourself." He stuck the disc in his computer and clicked play, backing out of the room before Chuck could protest at being left alone in the office. But Chuck couldn't have protested; he watched, entranced, as a security tape began to roll. Bart Bass was arguing heatedly with a woman. After she entered the building they were standing outside of, Bart hurried away furiously, and the building erupted in flames. The tape continued to play, but the woman didn't make her reappearance like Chuck expected.

"What the hell?" he shouted as the screen went black, along with the lights in the office.

"How does it feel knowing your father is a murderer?" asked Russell over the intercom, his voice filling up the room.

"He would never do that," Chuck bellowed, pressing the intercom button as hard as he could, though it was difficult to see in the dark. "How dare you?"

"How dare I?" Russell gave an unsettling, sardonic laugh. "She was my wife, that's why! And it was Bart's fault that she died!"

"No," Chuck said, adamant that this wasn't possible. "No, you're lying."

"You saw the tape. Video doesn't lie."

"It was an accident, then," answered Chuck.

"An accident that he murdered Avery after she ended things with him?" Chuck was shocked into silence. "Yes, my young Bass, your father was having an affair with my wife. I was admittedly neglecting her and Raina, was too focused on my business, and she was lonely, but I realized my error and we were happy together again. Bart didn't like that, not one bit."

"No," Chuck repeated in a whisper, not even bothering to press the intercom.

"So he killed her!" Russell shouted. "He trapped my wife in that fire for revenge!"

"Why are you telling me this?" Chuck asked through the speaker. "Why do you want me to know?"

"Bart Bass is dead," said Russell cruelly. "But someone still has to pay. His company will be ripped apart piece by piece after I buy it, and you will soon learn what it's like to lose what you love most, when you're too late and there's nothing you can do to save it."

"You're destroying Bass Industries to ruin my name?"

"No, I'm destroying Bass Industries to ruin Bart's legacy. To ruin you, I've got something much more painful in mind, something that will feel like a knife to your heart twisting in a little deeper with every day that passes. And it'll never, ever come out no matter how hard you pull. You'll bleed to death before you do."

"What are you going to do?" Chuck asked, feeling horror start to set in.

"I'm going to be generous and give you a choice," said Russell smoothly. Chuck wished he could see his face, but then again, his voice was terrifying enough as it was. "Unlike me, you get to choose who you lose and who you keep, but no matter what happens, it will be your responsibility. It's like a psychological experiment, I guess you could say." He gave a demonic chuckle. "Now, how would you like to hear what's going to happen?"

"Tell me, Thorpe," demanded Chuck, his pulse racing.

"Think of the two people in the world you care for most," Russell said. "Close your eyes and picture their faces." Chuck didn't know why, but he did. He squeezed his eyes shut and saw his best friend laughing, his blue eyes twinkling, and the love of his life, giving him the secret smile she had just for him, her red lips turned up and her doe eyes emitting her warmth. "Now, Mr. Bass, imagine that you would never see one of them smile again, because you won't. You see, I've made an arrangement so that you have to choose the one that you're going to save and the one that is going to die. Your dear friend, Nathaniel, or that lovely young woman, Miss Blair Waldorf, is it?"

"Shut up!" Chuck screamed. "Just shut up! Don't say their names; you don't deserve to!"

"I can tell I've upset you," Russell's voice said, amused. "But I haven't told you the rest of the plan yet. Would you like to hear?"

"No!" His voice broke.

"Too bad. Because if you don't, you'll be stuck here unable to save either of them, and you'll have two people's blood on your hands rather than one."

"Fi - fine," whispered Chuck, not caring that he was crying and the tears were coming rather rapidly down his cheeks.

"I have two containers with me. One is filled with water, the other gasoline." Chuck sobbed, sinking down to the floor with the intercom on his lap. "You choose whose room is filled with water and whose is drenched with the gas. One will live by water, the other die by fire." Chuck heaved air, took gulps of it and still felt suffocated. He had no phone, no means of escaping the door that was unquestionably locked, and a leap from a building so tall it would kill him.

"I - I can't," he choked out. It was true. How could he choose between the pair that had been with him through everything, the people he would sacrifice himself for a thousand times over? Wait… "Let me die instead!" he shouted. "Please, kill me instead, and let them live."

"That's very admirable, Mr. Bass, that you would give up your life to save theirs, but the suffering of death lasts only a few minutes. The suffering of life is what I want to see in you - dying while you're still living."

"Please," Chuck begged. "Please."

"You don't have very long," Russell warned. "I need a decision by eleven-thirty tonight, which gives you about ten hours to choose. At midnight, you will arrive at the location of whomever you have chosen to save. Choose very wisely, Mr. Bass. You'll have to live with this the rest of your life."

Holy water cannot help you now
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
And no rivers and no lakes, can put the fire out
I'm gonna raise the stakes; I'm gonna smoke you out

Until next time - xoxo