Eric's sincerity is becoming uncomfortable. Even...moving. His words prick Bill's conscience, making him unable to meet Eric's eyes for too long, to see his pale, earnest face in the moonlight. Eric has changed. Has truly changed, and-- it seems, for the better.

Better than Bill had ever been, though he'd tried. For Sookie.

Indeed, none of this is easy to listen to, especially when Bill can still hear Sookie's pleading voice:

If you ever loved me, you won't hurt him.

He turns away for a moment, nodding to the guard holding the long box. The guard opens it, revealing a relic, a gilded, ceremonial wooden stake on a bed of purple velvet, smoothly carved, and tipped with silver. Bill carefully picks it up.

this is wrong

and you know it

Eric continues to speak of Sookie with such hope even now, and Bill cannot help but ask him, incredulous, "Why would you hope for that?"