Dude is still not doing so well by the time Jessica gets back to him. In fact, I do believe he just died. And once again it's heartbreaking, Jessica's ignorance, as she last-resort chomps out her own wrist and holds it to a dead man's lips, thinking maybe this futile act will do the trick. There's a lot to be mined in Jessica's ignorance here, the way she interacts with the dead body: Trying to bring him back to life, eventually sleeping with him under the floorboards like a telltale heart, keeping him with her all alone, smelling him on her every second, letting him build back all those walls she's already broken down so many times since dying. She's a high school freshman with a hit and run; if she could dream she'd dream of him.
The werewolves are getting all kinds of horny and giggly and bi, sucking on Bill and tweaking their nipples and groaning creepily and generally acting like the worst kind of pornographic cinema film about fellas. "Pull over, Jimmy. I gotta get me a drag off of this fuck!" Finally Coot tells the one closest to Bill to spit some V in the guy up front's mouth, which... Teachable moment.
There is a genre, in the area of guys like this -- mean car mechanics, angry members of our armed forces, forest rangers with a grudge, that sort of thing -- where the dudes spit in each other's mouths as a sign of domination, like the slapping the ass thing, and it's been sort of spilling out into regular porn for awhile now and it's very yucky and hateful but it's real, so now you know one more thing that nobody needs to know. It just occurred to me that there are those with and those without this grody knowledge, and it makes the scene twice as much or half this way, depending. You'd still get it -- that this show is getting gayer by the second -- but you might not really get the extent of it: If this were a porno, there might well be spitting in the mouth. Just spit, not blood, although God knows.
Nipple-twister is like, "What? That's gay," and ever-pragmatic Coot (who is laughing his ass off, face covered in blood, and still just totally cute) points out, "And playing with your own titties in a car full of dudes ain't?" They do the spitting, everybody's turned on in a scary but sort of realistic way if you've ever been to the bloody shirtless all-boy orgy that happens to most dudes in college at least once, and Bill tries to start up a convo with him, as even covered in blood and laughing wildly and ordering people to do gay shit he is still clearly the only rational wolf in the pack. But Coot has no time for his business, because he's gotten blood all over his black kid gloves.