"Get out!" she screams finally, and he's shocked. "If you knew what I had done to return to you..." Who cares? You didn't come in time, and when you did come you did it the wrong way, confirming every fear and killing every fantasy. I've known Sam for years, I've known you for weeks, and you know what? I've never had a moment's happiness with you. You are the darkness, and I consort with you, but some happiness is easy. Warm, and easy, under the sun. "I rescind your invitation." His fangs pop back in immediately, all lust gone with the words. He begs her not to do it, as she walks him slowly backwards, eyes on his, toward the door. It hurts her, but there is this: back when she invited him in, death was something that happened to other people. And ever since she invited death into her home, it has taken everything from her. It has come for her a hundred times. This is her house now, her seat of power and the one place she should be able to feel safe. She slams the door in his face, and he weeps.
Inside, she shrugs off Sam's manipulative race-hate shit, all "Can't you see what he's really like? How can you think about be with him?" and finally screams the most awesome thing. "My living room's wrecked, I've got a killer, a vampire and a shapeshifter on my plate. Right about now, I'm not thinking about being with anybody." She pushes her way through the house.
Maryann pulls up outside a beautiful mansion, antebellum columns, a hundred bedrooms. It looks shiny, and new, like it might have sprung up in the night. Like the car, like Maryann's clothes, like everything in the fairytale where the better mother calls you in, to warm yourself by the hearth. It could be made of candy. "This is where you live? Fuck me..." Maryann laughs, and ushers her in: "Make yourself at home. I insist." She opens the door -- no lock, it's like a dream, it's made of gingerbread -- and the door swings heavily open, and Tara enters that house by the silvery moonlight, and her initiation begins again.
Jason sits limp and slack in the station, Bed Dearborn watching him in anguish and disappointment and love while Andy struts and does his creepy sexual masculinity-jealousy crap. "People said No, not Jason Stackhouse, he's too dumb! But I knew. I said, 'That shifty bastard's a goddamn psychopath.'" Jason is pretty sure it's true, at this point, but stupidly calls him Andy, which earns him a bark of "detective!" Jason has just enough juice left to roll his eyes at the martinet, and Bud asks him what happened. Before he can speak, Andy goes off again: "I'll tell you all about it, I'll tell you exactly what happened. This piece of shit lured those poor girls into his king-size bed and dirty sheets, to fuck them and kill them!" Bud reminds Andy that Jason totally called them and came in willingly, so would Andy mind actually letting him confess?