Set after 6x04. A lot of this is my understanding of Dan and Serena at the moment, creative liberties taken of course :p Reviews are greatly appreciated.
There are a lot of unsavory things going on that list. Serena knows she's made questionable decisions (more than a few) and she knows a reasonable number were romantic (way more than a few). There's Nate and Dan, Dan again then Gabriel, Carter, Nate again, there's Ben and Tripp and somewhere in there Dan happened a few more times. It's messy and ugly and she's not ashamed of it exactly, but some part of her wants to keep it all to herself. But this is who she is, this is who she wants to be. This person is mature and strong and hasn't been hurt or betrayed or torn by the people she loves. This person doesn't care.
But despite herself, as she lines it all up in her brain to tell Steven, a part of her wraps itself around that night with Dan and hides it, buries it, protects it. Serena's not sure why that moment is so raw, so vulnerable, but the more she thinks about it the more she decides it's to protect her relationship with Steven. Because God forbid Steven should feel as though he's some sort of rebound from Dan. God forbid Steven should think that she's still in love with Dan.
Because she's not.
The article on Nate is scathing. It's not untrue but it is unkind, and as she sits down across from Dan Serena wonders if he truly wrote it; it's so brutal, so violent, so…not Dan.
Or so she thought.
But he opens his mouth and words that aren't his flow out of it. It's vaguely reminiscent of I'll never have to see you again and this is a typical shallow cry for attention and Nate huh, I guess bad history repeats itself. Dan's always had that attitude, that snide, cutting edge to his nature, but it's something he did when hurt. And as he sunders and tears at her further, Serena feels her anger and indignance slip through hers fingers, because she knows him well enough to see beneath this.
All she can feel is sadness.
Dan is angry and Dan is bitter, wounded, and like a wounded bull he is thrashing and raging and destroying everything around him in a chaotic maelstrom of feelings. Serena understands it. She's been that raging bull. She may not be cruel and she may not be cutting, but she knows destruction, and this path is going to destroy Dan.
Her compassion stretches thin and she walks out, but when he calls her name and she pauses for him, there's this boy looking at her for a split second, this sad, hurt boy that makes her feel sixteen again. One flippant comment and he's gone again, squashed beneath this new Dan Humphrey. This Dam Humphrey she doesn't know. This Dan Humphrey she doesn't love.
Not that she loves any Dan Humphrey.
Serena looks at the video. For all her mistakes, for that entire exhaustive list, there's not much she regrets. But recording that night, she regrets that. That part of her heart that's protecting that memory aches and begs her not to give up, not to box away her feelings and shove them away. Her thumb hovers above the delete option, and she feels all her lovehurthope for Dan attach itself to this gesture. This act of letting go.
She can do this. She must. Because it's not a big deal. Because she does not love Dan Humphrey.
When she lays in bed that night, behind closed eyes Serena hears Dan's voice floating around in her head. It's ruthless and cold, it doesn't care about anyone or anything, and that sadness seeps back into her mind.
What brought you such grief and bitterness to make you this way? What happened to you, Dan Humphrey?
Not that she cares.
Because she does not love Dan Humphrey.
She doesn't love Dan Humphrey, she doesn't love Dan Humphrey, she doesn't love Dan Humphrey.