Sookie: "He's your maker, isn't he?"
Eric: "Don't use words you don't understand."
Sookie: "You have a lot of love for him."
Eric: "...Don't use words I don't understand."
Eric watches the guys locking that front door, and leans down to Sookie, so still and quiet and amazing: "Trust me." It's hot. And then in a different way, so is the sudden stooped, dorky smile and posture and accent he puts on, wandering toward the guys with a creepy culty air and telling them he can hold the anteroom. "You're big and all, but there's a vampire on the loose," one of them reminds him, and he fairly shudders with fake surprise. One asks where his stakes are, and he laughs and says, "Dang, I forgot."
What I am telling you is that Eric Northman says, "Dang."
A guy sneaks around behind Eric while he glamours a younger dumb hottie to hand over his stake, and the guy of course gives in, and the other guy reaches out and Sookie screams, "STAKE!" and then it's all sort of a blur: what was like five guys becomes three becomes a crippled mess and the youngest one of all, with a stake held to his neck. "Eric!" Sookie yells, coming closer: "You don't have to kill him." Eric drops the kid and she drags him to the door, where the congregation still throngs. The kid -- who has slid down the wall and is sort of wigging -- reminds them that the arrows are made of wood, and they'll never make it through.
They head through the awesome windowed sanctuary, but Steve's been standing there since the alarms went off, and explains that of the many exits, the one they'll be using is the one that takes you straight to hell. Luke and the LODI boys come in, from every door, covered in every manner of wood and silver and steel, wrapped in chains. I mean to say that the Fellowship wear their chains everywhere they go, to stay safe. Sookie tries to talk sense, and Steve yells amazingly, "The war has begun, you evil whore of Satan! You vampires cast the first stone by killing my family." He's so stuck on that! "The lines have been drawn! You're either with us or against us. We are prepared for Armageddon!"
God, I hate the apocalypse. Ever notice how the only people who ever want to talk to you about Revelation or Armageddon are either trash or coked up? It's always dudes who think they might be gay, or grad students, or crazy church people, or two of those three. They're so tired, or scared, they can't wait for it to end. For me, I can't imagine anything comforting about all this -- all this! -- ending. The apocalypse is suicidal ideation, and an inability to bear the weight of an infinite and unrecognizable future, but mostly it's just lame.