"Um. My girlfriend, she staked a vampire right in front of me. His name was Eddie, and he was gay? But he... He was a real nice person." Sarah gets intense, reminding him that Eddie wasn't "a person." She points at Missy's neck: "A person wouldn't do that, would they?" It only strengthens Jason's resolve, and he speaks more firmly: "Well, my Gran, and my girlfriend, were killed by my best friend. Just because he had a problem with vampires. And he was a person." (Several, in fact.)
Sarah feels the temporary power shift in the room, and cuts almost-angry eyes at him, like, "Why are you fucking ruining this?" And while it's compelling anyhow, it's also pretty intense to think about how all of this happened like a month ago. He's just like Missy: an object lesson, a person still living in the middle of his horror. He takes one look at that cold gaze and immediately all the feelings of love, belonging, all that drains away and he's sad again. "Look, I'm only here because I thought God wanted me to be. Thought maybe He had a purpose for me, some shit like that." He stands up. "Beginning to see that was just wishful thinking," he says, and leaves the circle.
Sarah chases him out on the porch, desperate to keep him close, and asks him to just talk to her, work it out, give her something to work out. He swears there's nothing to talk about, so she starts with the obvious: "The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about this one. I knew the Lord had sent you to me, but it wasn't till today that I knew why." You can see everything, every single thing he thinks or feels or has ever thought or felt, on his face. This is the easy part: "Because we're so much alike. We want to see the best in others so badly that sometimes we overlook the worst."
"That kind of does sound like me," he agrees, which is half true. If you look at it in that hateful, small way, then yes: he's naïve. But that's just the Light of Day fallacy: to love the light, you must hate the darkness. Which is just a way of opting out of being present for anything, just like any dogma. It's lazy, and it harms you in the long run. Here's an analogy: If a gay guy sleeps with a woman, he's still gay, right? No question. But if a straight guy sleeps with a man, he's gay. Automatically, no exceptions. It's tilted that way: Open the gate, and all the evidence comes sliding down into the gay part of the box. It's a fall from imaginary grace, and you can't get back. (This is also the reason I love Jessica the most, after Jason: she's the only one that's lived both absolutes. Total asceticism, total abandon. She's the only person who can consciously make the choice, and has the horrific, hard-won training to be sensible about it. She was homeschooled in just this balance.)