"I told you not to talk to him. He was controlling your mind..." Jason's pissed, because he knows Eddie doesn't know how to do that yet; that Eddie's so young he's got no guile in him at all, that Eddie's so soft he could barely bite, that he had tamed the beast in Eddie and that they trusted one another; that they had no guile in them and didn't know yet how to lie. That there was something old, and good, and wise, something extraordinary, in Eddie, and that he could see it, and that they could see each other, and that he knew it would be all right. "God, it was never gonna be all right. From the minute we took him, you knew it was gonna end like this, you just couldn't face it." Jason assures her he had no idea it would end with him covered in the blood and skin of a person he loved, and she rewrites the world again, in cinder and soot and blood and skin: "You wanted his blood. Bad. You were with me the whole way, so do not act like this is my fault. Now, I said to clean up, so clean up!" She shoves a towel at him and they scream: "Yankee bitch!" "Dumb fucking hillbilly!" They try to clean their mess up; it's a good five seconds before he starts to vomit.
"It's okay. It's gonna be all right. We just gotta keep our shit together." Just like they killed a man; it looks and feels and sounds like they just killed a man. "For the last time: he was already dead, he was not a man. He was a predator, only we got him first." She walks him out of it; lets him lean against her with arm thrown across her shoulder as she walks him out of it, humbled and hopping: "Don't do this, okay? Don't let a vampire come between us. Because what we have..." She says his name, sharply, to draw him back in, to pull his eyes to her beautiful face. Eddie couldn't do this yet; he was too young. They are covered in blood, and hunger, and hate, and fear and lust and selfishness, they are covered in murder and gore and the horror of a life they ended together: "It's beautiful."
It's morning time, by which I mean the sun is coming up. Sookie's sitting at the kitchen table, by which I mean it's breakfast time. There are eggs and sausage in the oven, staying warm for Sam: in the daytime, when the sun comes up, and families eat breakfast together, Sookie's sitting at the kitchen table with the home smells of egg and sausage heading up the stairs and out into the sunlight. It's going to be clear all day, and you can walk out into the sunshine of a morning, after breakfast with the family, and know that everything is going to be all right: that a new day is beginning. If you're alive, you can do those things.