Eric stands alone for a moment, before Bill Compton -- whose inability to read a fucking room is demonstrably endemic, even before he met Lorena -- decides it's time to throw some kind of fucking fit. It's very inappropriate. Eric begs him to let it slide for like five seconds, but no. Bill punches him in the face, which just proves how powerless he feels. The blood flows down. "Have I made my point?" Will you ever? Eric points out that it's already done -- "I'm part of her now" -- and Bill's overdramatic ass feels both helpless and stupid. He stands aside when Eric asks him to, and then Bill and Sookie are left alone in their room, which I guess is the Summit Suite.
Bill slams the door behind Eric and works his wrist, unaccustomed to hitting, and she joins him in the bedroom. "I'm going to find Godric," she says, haltingly, and he's flummoxed. "None of this has anything to do with us. Godric is not your concern." Which is the thing Bill's never going to understand, even though it's the thing he loves best about her. It's her best thing.
"If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be standing here. He's in pain, he's suffering. I've got to do something. You of all people should understand how he feels. What if it were you, Bill? What if in 1800 years, you were Godric?" He tries to imagine that. He can't, so he agrees, but wants to come with. She swings her ponytail and turns him down. This isn't about him. This is about her negotiation with that world, and her relationship with this boy, that she's tried to explain to him over and over, when he wasn't listening. "It'll be dawn in a little while." He shudders, helpless, and extends himself so far as to saying he could stand to be just a little burnt up. It's desperate and demeans them both. "I will not let you take that chance. With Godric there, you don't have to worry about me."
Bill looks at her, amazed, trying to take her in all at once: "You are so tender-hearted. You feel obligated, I can see that. But Sookie, in all honesty, what can you do for him?" This is it. This is what she can do for him. She knows this. So does Bill. Somebody has to be there. Somebody has to witness it.
The human population of Dallas is 2.4 million. They're going to wake up sometime in the next hour, and go to work, and read about the latest vampire bullshit in the news. Some of them will be turned on. Some of them will be grossed out. Some of them will be both, and won't even know it. A little brighter spot on the horizon, a flash on top of the vampire hotel that crouches in their dreams, nobody's going to notice that. But something beautiful is about to end. Something beautiful, and terrible, and older than Christ. By tonight, the spin machines will have started up again. What did it mean, what did he say, where do we go?