Jason has three visitors in jail: Rene Lenier, Sookie, and finally a dude from Newlin's church, the Fellowship of the Sun -- best known for their double-talking hatred of vampires. Tara's living it up at Maryann's with her new guitar-playing hottie friend Eggs, and has no idea that A) she is being deliberately cut off from her friends or B) that sometimes Maryann goes blurry in her yard in a super freaky way.
Sookie spends the rest of the day freaking out about Jason, talking about how she's going to find the real killer just as soon as that fax comes in, and ignoring every possible sign that Rene's the killer to the point of letting him drive her home. Once there, her psychic powers finally kick in and she realizes he's Drew Marshall, the Fangbanger Strangler. Then he kind of menacingly chases her around the house in slow-motion for about a million years being creepy, she runs to the graveyard for no reason, and he bashes her head in.
Meanwhile, Sam has smelled his road crew jacket and comes barking down the road, but Rene bashes his head in as well, so he turns back into a man. Down underground, Vampire Bill hears Sookie freaking out and throws himself out into the sun to save her, but is slowed down by the fact that sunlight causes vampires to burst into flames. After most of his face falls off, he drops to the ground about a hundred yards from where Rene is freaking out on Sam and Sookie, but he's just close enough that his presence wakes Sookie up. She pulls it together enough to smash Rene in the head with a shovel, then fully chops off his head. It is amazing.
Sookie cries and whines and moans and beats her breast at Bill's side as he's slowly cooking in the sun. Finally, naked Sam points out that they should probably stick him in the ground, and solemnly does so, which means all three of these fools has now saved each other's bacon like six times in succession. Sam takes her home, and doped-up to the point of hilarity, Sookie tells him -- in front of Tara and Lafayette -- that he is totally awesome, and they kind of love each other. Guilty Arlene and hyperactively redeemed Jason come by to visit, and Tara tells Sam that (now that Bill is likely dead-dead) he can have Sookie. She returns to Maryann... But not before a showdown between Maryann and Sam suggests a rich and totally freaky history. Then Bill comes back to Sookie, totally healed and having fed on somebody, and they make out.
Two weeks later, things are different for everybody: Vermont passes the right to vampire marriage, Hoyt is looking for a vampire bride around his age, and Bachelorette #1 seems to be Jessica, whom Eric and Pam unceremoniously drop off at Daddy Bill's because she's too annoying even for their arch sanguinity, so he makes that freaked-out face I like. Jason has joined the Fellowship of the Sun and taken that vacant look behind his eyes to a whole new level, Tara is spouting off Maryann's philosophies (sort of a cross between Tony Robbins, Nietzsche and The Secret), much to Sam's consternation... And Lafayette's body is found in the back of Andy's car.
Once upon a time, in a land not far from this one, there lived a little boy. His favorite thing in the world was his body: a strange country, just like yours. One you could spend the days and years of your life mapping, journeying, and never without a strange new discovery. It was the chariot he rode. It was wonderfully and terribly made, and the songs it wrote upon itself were wordless. He knew he would never know it fully, not in a way you can say out loud, because those songs were songs that had no words. Sometimes it surprised him. The little boy had no parents to speak of, but it was a good life: right on the edge of the forest, where day becomes night and men become beasts. Where witches and wolves and worse dwelt, calling to him all day and all night: "Come and find out!"
The boy had a little sister, with a body of her own. The songs it sang were different, and none of his concern. He only knew, from the top of his beautiful head to the soles of his strong feet, that he must protect her. They lived in a wilderness, full of strange things under the moon and the sun, and there are a million ways you can hurt yourself if you don't have a map. There are valleys and shadows we walk into with our eyes open, following old instructions, hearing old songs calling across to us, saying, "Come and find out!" It is for men to protect their little sisters, their daughters and their wives, from songs like this. The little boy knew this as well as he knew anything. So he stayed close to home and he kept an eye on his sister, whose purity he shared. And if she went down, he knew, he would go down too.
One day, Death came to town. Just for a little visit, he said. And she was beautiful, and powerful, and the little boy knew he could explain all the secrets in this world. Even the secrets of the flesh. The language Death spoke had no words: It was a song about everything we don't have words for. Sex, and danger; running in the night with blood beating in your ears. Death was a welcome home, and Death was an invitation to the night. The little boy sat across the table from Death, and looked upon his beauty, and desired her: but this was one of those bad places he knew he shouldn't go. He could look on Death and smile, and he could pay tribute; he could give her a kindness and share a meal, but then it went no further. And the sun would come up, regular as clockwork, and the little boy and his sister would have breakfast together, and talk about anything but Death.
And then the little boy -- all the little boys -- figured out that the joke was on him: all the time he'd spent, guarding the door and listening at windows, and it turned out his sister had pulled a chair up to the table, and was eating gratefully with Death. Sharing little secrets he was too cowardly to know; singing songs of which he'd only heard bits and pieces in his dreams. His sister and Death were lovers, laughing behind their hands at him, sharing countryside and clearing that he would never know. His sister turned her face from the sun, and ran in the night, dancing under the moon, mad with desire. Her purity, and his: running red with blood. And the little boy knew a thing, and put that thing away: he wanted to make love to Death. He knew he would grow up then, and enter Death's kingdom, and would know those moonlight songs. And he wanted it so badly, but he was afraid. His body was an unknown kingdom, with secrets and shames he could only put into words. But he looked upon his sister, and Death, and he was ashamed.