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If season 1 shone a light into the darkness to find what lurks there, season 2 drags us kicking and screaming into the light where it’s no safer, and it’s far more complicated. Most of last season was spent acclimatizing to the characters and their idiosyncrasies, what makes them human or . . . mostly human. This season seems set to challenge the inhumanity and hypocrisies of the people and institutions right under our noses, where consequence is no longer a boundary in the unapologetic pursuit of personal salvation and ecstasy. If last season was about acceptance, season 2 is about taking what’s owed to us.

Many of the characters have suffered harsh punishment in the name of playing by their own rules: Lafayette is not dead but, by putting himself so many steps ahead of social mores, he’s fallen generations behind, literally shackled like a slave in Fangtasia’s basement with Royce, the Merlotte’s “AIDS burger” customer, by his side. There’s also a lot of confession in this episode. Lafayette is forced to listen to Royce tell him that he accepted sexual favours from another boy when he was young, something that above ground would have no doubt given Lafayette pleasure and leverage. In the basement, he’s stripped of his personality, his lost clothing as much a part of his armor as his sharp tongue.

Bill’s and Sookie’s confessions that they love each other come under duress. Bill doesn’t tell Sookie he turned Jessica as punishment for saving her or that he killed Uncle Bartlett until he’s confronted on both counts. His apology gets in the way of this climactic moment when they both finally admit their love for one another. What is new, however, is that when they make love, Sookie is presented to us as a woman who knows what she wants. She’s a sexual being, her body placed toward the camera. Their connection is less about Bill’s need to feed and more about mutual pleasure. When he bites her, Sookie’s face fills the frame, her own blood smeared across her lips. Apart, they are different from their communities, but together they are one and the same. As a couple, they show us what they can do when their forces are combined. However, as a doting father and passionate lover, Bill is almost too good to be true in this episode. It’s possible that the writers are making a conscious effort to differentiate him from Eric, who is clearly devoid of compassion as he tears Royce limb from limb in a monstrous display.

Renewal seems to be another theme this season, second chances and what we choose to do with them. In particular focus are the methods we use to rear our children. Bill steps into his guardian role reluctantly, but with commitment. Jessica will be reckless if she isn’t shown boundaries. He wishes only to arm her with what she needs to keep herself, and others, from harm: essentially her own code. Lettie Mae, meanwhile, abandons Tara, leaving her with no option but to do what she must to survive. With little money and no education to get herself ahead, Tara must consider Maryann the coolest mother on the block, if not a little overwhelming. The irony of Lettie Mae’s condition, however, is that she’s merely traded in one addiction for another, booze for Jesus, anything to keep her from having to be accountable to others. Maryann woos Tara with luxuries, intoxicants, and an exotic intellect that embraces sensuality and the belief that we are not so separate from our gods. She also helps foster Tara’s attraction to Eggs, a flawed but deeply kind man that Tara may be able to trust.

Jason takes another big step on his path out of darkness as he prepares to join the Light of Day Institute run by Reverend Steve Newlin, son of the murdered Reverend Theodore Newlin of the Fellowship of the Sun. By attending the leadership conference, Jason will become a child of the Lord and a soldier for God, believing that religion is bigger than hate. The hypocrisy of this is revealed in Steve’s statement to Nan Flanagan of