The seasons change around her, as Serena enters the courtyard; summer to fall, flanked by Plastics. Completely hot. Clearly evil. Even, like, her hair and walk are scary. He takes her in; he wants to speak, but he can't. It's like a dream, now, temperature dropping. Her hips, her eyes. The languid power in her back and hands: she doesn't care at all, any more. She doesn't have to. She's burning. Her clothes send out sparks of flame. Her eyes are full of sparks.
Serena comes close, and looks Dan in the eye with something like sympathy, or sadness: this could have been easier. You could have made her feel better. She shakes her head, the tiniest little bit. There's no going back now. And you're the one who did this. He knows. She nods to the Plastics, a curt and tiny movement, like a bird, like a flame. They follow behind. She pushes past him like the weather. She's not falling, she's dancing. And she's only begun to rise.
"Sorry, Lonelyboy! But don't say we didn't try to warn you... But, if Queen S will do this to D, are any of us safe? Bow down ... or bow out."
Or, as the original Gossip Girl might put it: "Although affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground; yet man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward."