I like that it was a big industrial steel chain that Sookie used, because of the funny inequality it sets up against the tiny chain of silver, which wouldn't work on the opposite men in the quartet. Hit the vampire with a big old chain and he's going to eat your face; drape jewelry across Mack Rattray and probably same thing. We have our weaknesses and we have our inversions; there's no stronger or weaker, nor good or evil, just ways of being what God made you. Sookie peels the chain slowly away from his skin; it smokes, and takes skin with it. He'd groan more if he hadn't been bled so intensely. As her journey across his body frees his chest, he immediately puts his fangs away. Right this second is the hottest Bill is in the entire episode, and I am not even interested in investigating why that is. The scars and lesions on his wrists and chest instantly heal right before your eyes; Sookie whispers: "Shut. Up." She drags the vampire out of the way as Denise drives their trashy pickup toward them, shouting about how "I'm going to get you bitch" and things of this nature. I wish the Rattrays would instantly die because I cannot handle these people at all. And it's not like it's bad writing, because the hate I feel for them is ever so real.
Sookie considers the vamp. "Oh, bless your heart. I am so sorry I didn't get here faster. You'll be okay in a minute, right?" He stares around, and looks back up at her; she's confused. "Do you want me to leave?" He says he doesn't, and she smiles sweetly -- girl is crushing hardcore -- but it quickly falls: "They might come back, and I can't fight yet." (But also we are in true love! I am the answer to all your questions!)
A mysterious cute doggy comes running up out of nowhere to bark at the vampire ("Stop being sexy and mysterious!") and give Sookie a good licking. She giggles and he runs off after yelling at the fang some more. "He's checkin' on you," the vampire offers, but that's silly! Doggies don't patrol for ladies of virtue in trouble, silly vampire. "That's just some old dog that hangs around the bar sometimes, he must live nearby." The vampire nods indulgently; she tries to help him up and he shrinks back, still healing. "I reckon you're not too happy about being rescued by a woman." He brushes himself off, staying out, and remembers to thank her. She reaches out, in the silence, listening for him as hard as she can; he pulls the tourniquets from his arms and she listens, but hears nothing. "I can't hear you," she says wonderingly, now convinced it's not a trick of the light. "Thank you," he hilariously reiterates, but she kneels and puts her hands on his cold face, looking into his eyes. "No, no, no. I can hear you, but I can't..." She gauges the depths, sounds the dark, measures the silence. It goes on forever. "Oh, my stars..."