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: I lied. I said my next fanfic would be Blair-centric, but then I got some new spoilers that really inspired me to write this instead. It was going to be left as a oneshot, but I am actually dying to continue it, so if I get enough reviews, I will. This story is going to be darker than anything I've ever written, so I'm not sure how good it's going to be. But I'm really going to try to make everyone as in-character as possible. Thanks so much for reading. It means a lot!

She watched him.

Standing in the doorway of Palace Hotel room 1812, her eyes watered at the sight before her. He was slumped on a stool at the bar, his eyes almost drilling a hole into the dark wood countertop. A bottle of scotch sat in front of him and one lingered on the floor, almost empty but still spilling a tiny pool of amber liquid onto the thick white carpet. His glass was cradled in his palm, half full, and as he tipped it back, she saw that his hands were shaking.

He didn't see her.

He was empty inside. All he felt was the pounding of his heart, the burning of the alcohol sliding down his throat. But he didn't want to feel anything anymore. He would drink until he couldn't see straight and the room would spin. He would drink until his eyes glazed over and his body was warm. He would drink until he passed out, overcome by the blackness that filled him. He would drink until he was put out of his misery for as long as possible.

She still watched him.

He looked like he was living in slow motion, his movements sluggish and slow. His red-rimmed eyes burned with anger and his shoulders were hunched, as if he didn't want anyone to see his face. As if he thought no one wanted to.

He still didn't see her.

Tipping back his glass again, his eyes fogged over. He could barely make out the outline of the bottle in front of him. Good. That was exactly how he wanted it. He dumped the rest of the contents of the bottle in the tiny glass in his hands and poured it down his throat, trying to erase the pain.

Shot. Dead. Murdered.

The sound of Lily's screams echoed in his mind and he swigged back his scotch until the wailing was replaced by a low buzz. He saw the shocked tears streaming down her cheeks, her makeup streaking her face. Her blue dress and black coat and wet eyes. He took another long drink.

In critical condition.

He saw Eric's and Serena's faces floating before him, looking at him with pity. Serena had wrapped her arms around him, expecting emotion. Chuck Bass didn't do emotion. He stood as cold and unmoving as before as her long, pale arms slid around his shoulders and then off, leaving him stock still and all alone.

Pronounced dead at 9:17 PM.

Blair had texted him thirty times. She had called twenty. He had heard her voice out in the hallway with Serena; worried, scared. They had knocked on the door over and over, fist on wood, metal, banging. His head had pounded.

Bart Bass.

She moved closer to him.

He turned toward her with disheveled hair and blurry eyes and she felt a tug at her heart as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, pulling him close to her, pressing her head of smooth, dark curls into the stiff dress shirt covering his chest. His shoulders began to shake as he cried without tears, sobbed without a sound and yelled without words.

She felt him pull away from her grip and she turned to take him into her arms again, but instead she saw him pick up his scotch, watching the sparkling liquid twirl in circles in the cup and then knocking back the entire glass. The stinging alcohol fell into his mouth, chilling him until he couldn't feel his hands or feet. He was numb.

In a daze, he stared down at the glass and then up at the polished mirror across from him. Suddenly, with all of his strength, he whipped that glass at the mirror, channeling all of his anger into one wild shot. It broke into a million pieces that flew across the room, catching the light as they hit on the counters, the floor, the bed.

And when that mirror shattered, his heart shattered with it. Because Chuck Bass was broken, and he was pretty damn sure he couldn't be fixed this time.

Author's Note: Please, please, please review and tell me what you think! If I get enough reviews, I'll have the first chapter up in a few days. Thank you!