Meanwhile in Jackson, Eric and Talbot are very naked and very all over each other, but then before you know it, and it's not really important how they get there, but so like Eric's got Talbot... In a position such that... Basically Talbot can't really, like, see what Eric's up to. Behind him. Okay? And then Eric grabs that scroll of Japanese vampire erotica from the other day and says, "Russell took my family. Now I take his." And Talbot realizes that he has been had in a whole other way, and he screams and freaks out, but it's too late, and now Talbot is dead, dead, dead.
Russell stops kicking the everloving shit out of Bill for a second and then gets really sad and really scared and goes flying up into the sky like a rocket, shouting Talbot's name. Eric was so afraid, of feeling this.
Bill stares, and upstairs Sookie invites Debbie to leave, and then shoots the wall by her face, and then Debbie grins and goes flying out the window and runs off in the form of a wolf. Bill sprints up the stairs -- I guess he can only think about one of his girls or the other at a time? -- and they say "I love you" a million times and he apologizes a million times, because today was a really hard day: They only broke up like 24 hours ago and it did not improve their lives very much at all. Their love theme as they kiss starts slow, and sweet, but it goes darker and darker until it's gone altogether.
Hoyt drives and cries; just past a little hidden clearing where Jessica feeds on the wolf. He begs for her mercy; she wraps herself around him and continues eating. He deserves it, for what he would have done to her; her beast turned out stronger than his. It's that simple.
Sookie's house is torn apart. Wolves, and fights, and death; a goddess of raw nature who aged it impossibly. Brought the outside in. Forces and magic beyond understanding. What was once comforting, Heimlich, has gone wild and wracked and strange, and magical. What was inside now also and partially takes part of what's outside. The definition is perforated, like a neck. What was safe is now continually questionable; the alliances you could once come home to are now just more places for them to hurt you. Once-bright corners now host strange shadows and can't be trusted. The house groans under its history, strange even to itself. Its whole life is at night now.
And upstairs, in a pile of wreckage -- the scissors, the gun, a teddy bear speckled with blood -- Bill and Sookie are fucking, harder and harder; she pushes him down against the floor, and she pushes his arms away, and down, and she pushes his face away, and he struggles with her, and she struggles with him, and his hand is around her neck, and her hand is around his. But they don't let go.