Sam puts it to them now: The plan, which sounds insane at first and then less and less insane, is to match each human non-carrier of the virus to a Bon Temps vampire -- which remember, our vampires are the only ones not affected, the ones that got from the Hot White Room to Bill's house in one horny, drugged-out piece -- who will protect their homes in return for sustenance.
After six seasons of this, you may recognize the model, considering at least twice a year Sookie would Choose Me and then immediately remember that she was going to be murdered by somebody -- Debbie or Russell or whoever -- and immediately have to hook up with one of her supernatural boyfriends again. Giving her the faerie light was a good step toward equalizing that situation, but the stakes just kept rising anyway: How much healthier then, now that we are all Sookie Stackhouse, to make that bond a new kind of social connection? It's ambitious, but way less weird than it sounds. This is the end of the world. It's not like some weird idea Bill had, it's a way of saving Bon Temps from the rest of the destroyed globe. And Sookie's probably the only reason they thought of it at all.
There's a lot of pushback, especially once Sam starts throwing around words like "monogamous" to explain the setup, but it's daytime now. They can be brave when the sun is out. They can be repulsed by the idea, for now. But it's getting dark. And when he invites the whole town to what's been rechristened Bellefleur's Bar & Grill, for a free mixer sponsored by Arlene the owner, he knows the darker it gets the more they'll show up. Zagat's doesn't rate lifeboats on a star system. And it helps that healthy vampires are stronger than the zombie ones -- who aren't really zombies, it's explained: They are just like normal vampires, but a lot hungrier and more desperate, because they need more blood more frequently to keep themselves alive.
Of course, what we won't see is the majority of the results themselves, so there are still some unanswered questions: What happens to carriers? What happens if you sleep with a carrier and don't know you're infected? How do we inform people about the risk of blood-bonding? How has Hep V only hit 1/8 of the vampire population -- were there that many vampires ignoring TruBlood all along? (That's marvelous, it's always seemed like a marketing mirage and social-lubricant lie to me.) And what's most interesting to me is, how do you de-eroticize something you've been fetishizing since before you found out they were real?