Upper-level demons. Ensure your throats are properly hydrated.
Fade up on a map of the city, in the attic. The camera pans across it and over to Raige, who flips through the Book of Shadows as Piper impatiently paces behind her. "A demon who likes to kill witches," Raige muses. "Well, that narrows it down to every page in the Book." Piper reminds Raige that the demon in question slays with a dagger and thus has hands, thereby narrowing the field of possible suspects. Raige is ruffled once more, by the way. Fortunately, tonight's blouse is a deep forest green, so the flounces at her neck are more easily ignored than those of the Horror. Raige casually mentions that she heard Piper and the Dolt intend to introduce children into the Manor. Piper halts in mid-pace, raising an eyebrow. "Where did you hear that from?" she ungrammatically inquires. Raige admits that Phoebe told her all about it, then apologizes for breaking "some sort of sister confidentiality clause." Piper brushes this off, and denies that she has any desire to reproduce. "It's too risky," she asserts. A child "would be in constant danger around [them]." Raige pries a bit more, wondering what the Dolt thinks about all this. Piper allows that the Dolt believes there is enough magic flying around the house to ensure the safety of any small child. "Maybe he's right," Raige leads. "Maybe he's not," Piper says curtly, and orders Raige to continue her search. Raige pages past enchantment spells and the entry for time loops before pausing yet again. Drawing upon her Social Services reserves, Raige lets Piper know that there are ways for potential parents to experience the pitfalls of child care prior to pregnancy. Piper sardonically replies, "The time you pass a baby rental, pick one up for [the Dolt]." "Maybe I will," Raige breathes, the cryptic retort slithering past her overly-glossed lips as the Dolt himself orbs into the attic. He's all business in his orange thermal shirt, asking whether the attic Ps have learned anything about tonight's demon while he was consulting with The Powers That Be. Piper and Raige have scried for the meanie using "the slime from the last victim," and Phoebe and Cole have been sent to the resulting coordinates. The Dolt exposits that with two witches already dead, TPTB are getting tense. Meanwhile, Raige has stumbled across a promising entry. She reads, "Upper-level demon who likes to kill witches using [a dagger], sometimes [Flaming Balls Of Death], and his name is Belthazor." The camera cuts to Belthazor's entry, and it says none of these things. I know. I read it. I think I even transcribed part of it at some point in the past. Should we create a cross-referenced Mighty Big TV Index so that those responsible for these scripts no longer make mistakes such as this? Kidding. Like we're going to do their jobs for them. Anyway, Piper and the Dolt snicker at each other upon hearing the name, and tell Raige why she's fingered the wrong demon. No, not like that. Perverts. As she gazes at the rendering of Belthazor in the Book, Raige expresses shock. While she knew Cole was half-demon, she didn't realize his demonic half was Darth Maul.
The cordless rings. Phoebe and Cole have reached "Battery and Clay," but they don't sense a demonic presence. Make sure you're sitting down: Battery and Clay really exists. It's about four blocks from the Embarcadero. Whether or not the actual intersection features a dank, forbidding alleyway filled with Convenient Shipping Pallets Of Grave Bodily Injury is for someone else to discover. Piper passes the phone to Raige and turns to scry once more for tonight's demon. Raige snides something to Phoebe about Cole morphing into his demonic form as the scrying crystal slams down onto the map at Battery and Clay again. Raige tells Phoebe that the demon is still at the intersection just as the demon himself drops down from the sky behind Phoebe and Cole. If I knew more about comic books, I'd be able to tell you which one the costume and makeup crew raped to create this guy. He's wearing some sort of black PVC diaper with leggings, and his bald head and torso are slathered with oily black body makeup. A painted green hourglass begins high up on Diaper Boy's forehead, slides into a point at the bridge of his nose, and flares back out to end at his upper lip. The green tape he shoots out of the palm of his right hand wraps around Phoebe's ankle to drag her up into the air. Cole grips both of her wrists as the two struggle against the demon's pull for a moment. Finally, Cole releases one of Phoebe's hands long enough to hurl an FBOD at Diaper Boy. Diaper Boy immediately explodes into a cloud of green and black goo. The force of the explosion tosses Phoebe and Cole down the alley onto a pile of discarded rags, Phoebe hooting all the way. Cole lands on his back with Phoebe smack on top of him. Green slime has spattered them both, but they giggle and snicker doofily as Phoebe snorts, "We have to stop meeting like this." "Marry me!" Cole pants joyously. Phoebe's snickers halt at once. "What?" she bites. Cole's giddy grin melts a bit as he realizes what he just said. Phoebe's glossy lips gape as we slide into the credits.
"I can hear you thinking what I feel. I know that what we've got is real." Where do the producers find the crappy alterna-ovary folk shit they use under the opening travelogues, anyway? "And all we need to get us through is to live like lovers do." This is atrocious, even for Charmed. The alterna-ovary wails and wails until at last we land in the Manor hall as Phoebe and Cole enter through the front door. "Don't you think we should talk about this?" Cole asks. Phoebe dissembles, "Talk about what?" The two remain spattered with the goo, but Phoebe has pulled her slimy hair back into a low bun. Piper descends the stairs to greet them: "Wow. Looks like you got a juicy one." Ew. Also, snerk. Cole smirks happily as Phoebe tells Piper the "juicy one" isn't the demon responsible for the two witchy murders. "Upper-level demons have a human form," Cole explains. "And they bleed red, not green." Phoebe bolts for the stairs, intending to take a shower and scrub the goo from her hair. She also wants to check the BoS "for the demon [she's] wearing." Cole believes they need to chat. Phoebe believes that denying she heard his proposal will mean he never made it. Piper believes that she has no idea what the other two are talking about, but a tinkly little chime hits the soundtrack as it dawns on her that romantic foolery is afoot in Halliwell Manor. Phoebe curtly instructs Cole to focus on vanquishing that witch-slaughtering demon. Piper pulls an hysterical pop-eyed-while-sucking-on-alum face as she whips her ponytail back and forth between the two. Cole is adorably tousled and bright-eyed as he masks his disappointment with an affable offer to search the underworld for further information. Seriously, the guy is all blue-eyed, rosy-lipped, green-smudged, clean-shaven gorgeous here. Were Phoebe not such a neurotic intimacy-issues freak at the moment, I'm certain she'd be inviting him to join her in the shower. Cole's smile fades just a bit as he turns and squiggles out. Phoebe growls in frustration. Piper asks in a sugary-sweet tone of faux concern that clearly indicates she's up for some gossip, "Honey? Did you two just have a fight?" Phoebe doesn't want to talk about it and scampers up the stairs. Piper fixes her face with a determined look, and follows Phoebe to the second floor.
Random alley. A steroid-enhanced demon squiggles in, all Darth Maul markings and hamhock biceps. According to the Internet Movie Database, the gym rat they hired to play this demon previously appeared as the bouncer in "Size Matters," so if, unlike me, you still have that on tape, you can see what he looks like without the makeup. "Wiiiiiitch," he growls, and claps a hand over a squealing little blonde woman's mouth. He pushes her back against a Dumpster and examines her necklace with the blade of the dagger he carries in his right hand. The charm dangling from the chain is in the form of three intertwined crescent moons. "You're ," he seethes. He guts the woman with the dagger, then allows her corpse to drop to the ground. The gym rat turns to stride over to a nearby pay phone, morphing into a thirtysomething (who bears a faint resemblance to Garth Brooks in a suit) as he goes. The Garthalike punches in a number and -- adopting a tone that aims for innocent shock but ends up at mild blandness -- states, "I'd like to report a terrible murder. A beautiful young woman in the alley behind the Cannon Theater." Best as I can tell, there is no Cannon Theater in San Francisco, but that's not terribly important right now. What's more important is that, were I the emergency services operator who received this call, I'd immediately assume the person on the other end was the killer. I mean, "terrible murder"? "Beautiful young woman"? The choice of words added to the tone of voice should be more than enough to set off the alarms. A random twit interrupts the Garthalike: "Hey! Are you gonna be long?" The Garthalike sets the receiver down momentarily to fling an FBOD at the unsuspecting twit. The twit howls as he hurtles backwards to scorch a brick wall before disappearing in a veil of fire. The Garthalike returns to the phone, instructing the emergency services operator to send the police immediately before hanging up. The Garthalike squiggles out. The first time I saw this, I was left to wonder why the Garthalike chose to incinerate the twit, but called in the police to investigate the blonde's murder. I supposed they needed a way to justify Dorian Gregory's presence in tonight's episode, but Brad Kern and Nell Scovell, the clever co-authors of this evening's script, eventually proved me wrong.
Manor attic. The Book is open to a page entitled "Scavenger Demon" that includes a rendering of Diaper Boy from the pre-credits sequence. Phoebe reads that the Diaper Boy "feeds on the remains of other demons' victims." Oh, gross. So it's like Chief Brody blowing up Jaws immediately after it had eaten Quint or the shark in Deep Blue Sea exploding shortly after it had snacked on Saffron Burrows? Not only were Phoebe and Cole splattered with demon goop, they also were sprayed with the mangled remains of Diaper Boy's last meal? That's just disgusting. Piper changes the subject, asking Phoebe what she and Cole fought about earlier. Phoebe, with a hideous pair of braids draping down over her shoulders, has changed into a tight mauve V-necked top that puckers at her cleavage. She eventually admits that Cole proposed to her. She also admits that the proposal was so sudden and unexpected, she had no idea how to respond. "All my powers of premonition," she explains, "and I never saw that one coming." Piper sputters that she doesn't think it's possible for a witch to marry a demon, then adds in her best Grams intonation, "Honey, we can't have a demon in the family." Phoebe sighs and crosses to sit on the step leading up to the bay windows, whereupon we get a good look at her jeans. It looks like she waded knee-deep through the bombed-out remains of a yellow, orange, and pink appliqué demon and hasn't bothered to dry-clean her pants. Piper joins her, wondering what TPTB will think of the proposed union. Phoebe doesn't care -- she has to sort out her own issues first. I roll my eyes as a peremptory defense against any angst-laden marital story arcs involving witches and those The Rules forbid them from marrying, since I had more than enough of that sort of garbage last season, thank you very much. Phoebe confesses that marriage never entered into her plans for her future -- not even during childhood daydreams. She hopes desperately that Cole will just drop the issue, but Piper doesn't find that a likely solution. "A question like that just doesn't go away by itself," she sagely notes. Cole squiggles in at that moment, cleaned up and looking fine as he nervously swings his arms back and forth, uttering a bashful "hey." "I'll be downstairs," Piper gracefully announces and exits, pausing along the way to give Cole a pointed look.
Once Piper's gone, Cole and Phoebe engage in an awkward conversation about the demonic business at hand while both clearly have their minds on the elephant in the middle of the attic. Julian McMahon does a far better job conveying a tense, longing unease than Alyssa Milano does, but I suppose I'm biased. Deal. Cole didn't discover who is responsible for this latest spate of murders, but he managed to "rule out the usual suspects." Cole supposes it's just "another upper-level demon trying to build a reputation by killing witches to move up the ladder." He tries to make a small, self-mocking joke out of this characterization, for obvious reasons, but Phoebe's not having it. She rocks back and forth like an autistic child spinning plates on the floor, avoiding Cole's eyes. Cole dejectedly turns to squiggle out again, but Phoebe at last jumps to her feet to deal with the matter of marriage. "It's just hard," she stutters. "It's just me," he says softly. Sniffle. I'll marry you. In Vermont. Phoebe approaches him, asking whether he really meant to propose, or if his words were what I believe the courts might deem an "excited utterance." I watch too much Law & Order. Cole admits that he blurted the words out in the heat of the moment, but insists that once he did say them, he meant them. Phoebe wigs a bit and turns her back on him. Cole advances on her cautiously, stammering out his reasoning. He understands that who they are might prevent them from marrying, but he believes that if such supernatural class distinctions really mattered, they never would have fallen in love in the first place. I think I saw this plot last night on Turner Classic Movies in an ancient Gloria Swanson flick from 1919. Except for, you know, the "supernatural" bit there. Phoebe relents, turning to face him while indulging in her irritating habit of exhaling heavily while reaching up for his cheek, as if "heavy breathing" is the equivalent of "masterful acting." Cole continues with the "I want to spend the rest of our lives together even though you will grow wrinkly and die within the fifty years while I shall remain well-dressed and hot" thing before he's interrupted by the wails of an infant rising up through the floors below. Their expressions of mutual devotion slide into expressions of mutual befuddlement as we cut to the Manor parlor.
Raige holds a swaddled, rubberized, caterwauling infant in her smug little hands and shrugs, "You told me to rent one, so I did." Piper snits, "Where did you get it?" Raige obtained the "lifelike" doll at "the clinic," presumably a sort of parent-training center associated with THE BLACK HOLE OF SOCIAL SERVICES. Piper pushes the proffered doll away, ordering Raige to take it back. Phoebe and Cole enter as the argument progresses, and Cole sighs mightily, realizing that he'll get no further with the easily distracted Phoebe as long as this is going on. Raige explains that Piper and the Dolt wanted a test run on the whole child thing before actually shoving a bun into Piper's oven, so Raige helpfully procured this "mechanical baby" for them. "It sounds so real!" Phoebe marvels. "And so annoying!" Piper grits, drawing her fingers into claws. Snicker. The last thing Piper needs during the current demon hunt is to "protect a fake baby." Raige calls her on this by tossing the doll into the air. Piper reflexively freezes it. Raige claims this is proof that Piper's instincts were to save the child. To the contrary, Piper avers. "My instincts were to shut it up." Raige urges Piper to try holding the thing, since it's equipped with some sort of sensor that will stop the crying should Piper coddle it. If Piper still doesn't like it, Raige promises to return it from whence it came. Piper unfreezes the bionic brat and it drops into her arms. Phoebe indulges in a bit of irritating baby-related nonsense before the Dolt orbs in with news of the latest murder. Piper and Phoebe agree the gals should head to the scene immediately, after arranging for Detective Darryl to ensure access. Cole moves to join them, but Phoebe orders him to remain in the Manor: "Someone might recognize you from when you posed as a D.A." Cole pouts, "I never get to go anywhere anymore!" Snarf. "You were a demon and a lawyer?" Raige states evenly. "Insert joke here." I don't know if I should smirk or tell her to shut up for stealing my line. Meanwhile, the Dolt has been paternally admiring the bionic brat in Piper's arms. Piper foists it upon him, telling him to "take care of it" while she deals with the latest demonic crime. The Dolt's mouth twists into this bizarre lipless grin he directs toward the doll as he crosses to Cole for advice. Cole regards the doll for a moment as if recalling the carefree days of yore when he would happily snack on small children for lunch. He glowers, "Don't look at me," and darts off. The bionic brat wails in the embrace of the Dolt.
Cannon Theater Crime Scene. The gals plus Darryl duck beneath the yellow tape to enter the alley as Darryl warns them to keep a low profile. Piper notices the scorch mark on the brick wall, and correctly surmises that the blonde wasn't the only victim. Phoebe peers at the mark and rues her decision to leave Cole back at the house, as he might be able to identify the perpetrator from the residue on the wall. She asks Darryl whether anyone from the district attorney's office is on the scene, intending to summon Cole should the situation allow. Darryl nods and gestures toward a gentleman interviewing a woman in a hideous red bucket hat and what appears to be a rainbow-striped kaftan. She's "one of the victim's friends," he tells the Ps as he slides an evidence bag out of his jacket pocket. It contains the blonde's necklace. Raige immediately identifies the charm as a "triple crescent." "An ancient Wiccan symbol," she continues, good little student of the dark arts she has become. "A cousin to the triquatra." Piper supposes the charm could indicate that the blonde was a member of one of San Francisco's many, many covens. Once again, these women need to compile a directory of San Franciscan witches and covens. It really would make their jobs that much easier. Piper ponders the odds of Kaftan Kathy being a witch as well. Phoebe decides they're good enough to warrant a little chat. Darryl warns her again to keep a low profile as she wanders away.
Over in Kaftan Kathy's neck of the crime scene, the guy from the D.A.'s office appears to be conducting the interview on the very spot where the Garthalike dropped the corpse. How...unprofessional. The camera pans up Kaftan Kathy's bosom to linger on the triple-crescent charm dangling from her neck. Also, she's not wearing a kaftan. It's one of those terribly unflattering calf-length knit sweater-jackets I thought had been relegated to the dustbin of bad '70s fashion fads many, many years ago. Calf-Length Kathy denies that the deceased blonde had any enemies. When the shot shifts to her point of view, the guy from the D.A.'s office is revealed to be the Garthalike. How...unsurprising. He hands Calf-Length Kathy his card, giving her the old "call if you can think of anything else" speech before heading off to consult with some cops. Calf-Length Kathy hugs herself and totters towards the pay phone. Phoebe startles her by leaping out behind her and announcing, "I like your necklace!" "Do I know you?" Kathy asks. Phoebe clues her in on the whole Charmed Ones thing. I am terribly grateful when Kathy does not respond with "blessed be" or some other such crap. Phoebe correctly assumes that Kathy and the victim were in the same coven, and that said coven utilizes the triple crescent as its symbol. She touches the charm and is flung into a vision. The Garthalike, in demonic form, grabs Calf-Length Kathy in a park-like setting and runs her through with his dagger. Piper and Raige rush over for the details. When Phoebe mentions that the premonition involved some sort of amphitheater, Kathy immediately identifies the scene as the Stanley Arboretum, a park she passes through each morning on her way to work. Get ready for this: The Stanley Arboretum also really exists. Color me shocked. Which one of you mailed a map of the city to the writers' room? Anyway, Phoebe identifies the Garthalike demon as Belthazorish, though she's certain it's not Belthazor himself. Raige raises an eyebrow in disdain for Phoebe's choice in boyfriends, like, shut up, Raige. You cruise produce aisles for your slampieces, so it's not like your personal standards are so terribly high. Cow. The Garthalike spies the witchy confab and orders them to disperse. Darryl pretends he had nothing to do with the Ps invading the crime scene and escorts all four ladies out of the alley. The Garthalike glances around to ensure that no one is looking at him, then squiggles out.
"Stanley Arboretum," the following morning. The grass is a little too dry for a city park in the Bay Area, guys. time the ladies find themselves in a park-like setting, you might want to pick a location that isn't so patently southern Californian and sere. As the Ps plus Calf-Length Kathy wander along a dirt path, Calf-Length Kathy wonders why the Ps insist on heading toward danger rather than away from it. Piper lets her know that an "upper-level demon" can only be vanquished through a potion brewed with his own flesh. Raige wrinkles her nose. Have the original Ps done this before? "Once," Phoebe replies. "On my fiancé." No, Phoebe. Twice. Once for your fiancé, the second time for all of his frat buddies. There's nattering about Phoebe's use of the f-word before Raige tells her to back it up a little bit. They actually tried to vanquish Cole? "No, Belthazor" Phoebe corrects. "There's a difference." Raige makes a "whatever" face as Phoebe changes the subject to run through their plan of attack once more. Phoebe will act as a decoy to draw the Garthalike out of hiding. Piper will freeze him, and Raige has been assigned the task of slicing off a piece of his flesh. Kathy hands Phoebe her hideous hat and the Coat Of Many Colors in exchange for Phoebe's own jacket. Kathy's the only one of the four who hasn't changed clothes between scenes. Of the other three, Phoebe looks the best, despite the alarmingly aggressive Fun Bags protruding from her chest. Her hair is pulled up and rolled into that tendrilly chignon style that's really quite flattering and there are silk roses attached to a thin, braided cord choker wound at her throat. It looks better than it sounds. Really. Kathy looks a hell of a lot better herself, sans hat and jacket, but she really should do something about that shag cut. Piper calls for the Dolt, intending to have him accompany Calf-Length Kathy (a.k.a. "Susan") to the Manor for protection. Raige chimes in to opine that Kathy might be safer in Raige's former apartment, since the Manor is far more vulnerable to attack. In orbs the Dolt, and wow. What a dork. He's got the bionic brat strapped to his back in a little toddler backpack. "See?" he dolts at Piper. "We can make it work." Piper allows herself a smile but nevertheless orders the Dolt to drop the brat off at the Manor before heading over to Raige's. Kathy takes the Dolt's hand, and the two orb out.
The shot dissolves to Phoebe wandering cautiously through another section of the "Stanley Arboretum," clad in that awful hat and sweater. She's also borrowed the triple-crescent pendant, which now dangles from her neck to grace the cleavage between the Fun Bags. Piper and Raige peer through nearby bushes, awaiting the entrance of the demon. He kindly squiggles in at that moment and announces his presence: "Hello, wiiiiiitch." Phoebe turns with a "goodbye," but stammers to a halt when she gets a look at the Garthalike in demonic form. The Garthalike is basically Belthazor reversed. Rather than black markings on red skin, the Garthalike has red markings on black skin. Phoebe quickly regains her composure when the Garthalike charges her with his dagger raised. She grabs hold of his grey muscle tee and flips him over her shoulder onto the ground. Piper and Raige emerge from the shrubbery to make with the freezing and the slicing, but a curly-haired brunette pushes Piper into the dirt to fling a dagger of her own at the Garthalike's head. He squiggles out. The brunette's dagger smacks wetly into a tree. The tree, surprisingly, does not blaze its merry way to Hell. The brunette snits in frustration, "I had him!" The attendant "And you trashy whores let him get away!" is implied. Piper rolls onto her back to roar, "Who. The hell. Are you?" The bug-eyed goggles bounce from the brunette to Raige to Phoebe to the brunette again, then out to commercial.
Manor kitchen. The "Arboretum" brunette, Cole, and the Ps viciously kick the exposition around the linoleum flooring, battering out the following facts until the poor exposition is reduced to a quivering, bloodied heap in the corner. The brunette's name is Emma, and the dagger she tossed so expertly at the Garthalike was used to murder her fiancé -- a male witch named Andrew -- about eighteen months ago. The dagger is of the sort used exclusively by Cole's former frat buddies in the Brotherhood. Emma is not a witch herself, but she undertook the diligent study of her fiancé's texts in order to track down and kill the demon who murdered him. She zeroed in on the Garthalike and sussed out his MO. His favored method involves targeting a specific coven, then slaughtering all of its members. Emma understood that the Garthalike was on the prowl again after the third murder, and followed Calf-Length Kathy to the "Arboretum" in hopes of finally vanquishing him. Cole and the Ps argue that the single-mindedness with which Emma prosecutes her mission has consumed her better judgment. Had the Charmed Ones not been present, the Garthalike certainly would have murdered Emma as well. Emma natters something squicky about vengeance "empowering" her, but Cole shoots it down. Emma must relinquish her claim on the Garthalike or she'll die. Emma finds this difficult to do, having devoted her life to her quest for retribution. She goes to great lengths to add that the murderous demon's face haunts her daily. The Ps promise not to disappoint her. Got all that? Good. The bionic brat wails from the dining room. Raige bats at Piper to take care of the thing, prompting a "joke" between Raige and Emma about Piper's maternal status that is too tiresome to transcribe.
Offices of the District Attorney. The Garthalike strides through the hallways with his assistant, instructing her to contact Darryl's commanding officer and retrieve all of Darryl's recent case files. And that is the last we will hear of Darryl for the rest of the episode. Once the assistant leaves, the Garthalike enters his office and locks the door. He turns and starts talking to his shadow. Oh, no! Shadow Cole appears to have ditched Fleshy Cole after Fleshy Cole offed the Andrews Sisters; now Shadow Cole is hanging around this puffy little creep. Bad Shadow Cole! Bad! The Garthalike announces that he's going to lure Calf-Length Kathy to his office, and that he'll need Shadow Cole to, uh, stand guard outside to ensure that the Ps don't barge in on him. Shadow Cole nods his head and slithers down to the carpet to disappear beneath the office door.
The Loft Formerly Known As Chez Raige. Calf-Length Kathy asks the Dolt how much longer she'll need to remain in hiding. The Dolt reminds her that each member of her coven is in danger until the Garthalike has been vanquished, so all of the Triple Crescents should lie low until said danger has passed. Kathy's cell phone chirps, and she begs the Dolt's pardon to answer. It's the Garthalike, who addresses Kathy as "Ms. Coleman" and identifies himself as "A.D.A. Sykes." He lies that new evidence has been unearthed in the investigation into her friend's death, and that he would very much appreciate it if she could stop by his office right away to review it. Kathy looks to the Dolt for approval, which he grants. Kathy agrees to meet the Garthalike shortly.
Manor. On the sun porch, Emma dangles the scrying crystal over the city map from the blade of her dagger. The dark demonic force she seeks is still in the area, but she can't get a definite read on his location. Phoebe fruitlessly searches the BoS for a relevant entry. Cole inquires as to the manner of the Garthalike's departure. Phoebe notes that the Garthalike squiggles "like Belthazor," which Cole should have guessed, given that he already identified the dagger as originating from within his former fraternity. The scrying crystal attaches itself to the corner of Prescott and Pine. Phoebe, as alarmed as her addled little head ever allows her to be, realizes that the demon must be in the house. Do you see where they're going with this? Good, because I don't want to have to call you a moron. Cole dashes off to check upstairs. Phoebe and Emma are to gather the other Ps to prepare for a possible attack.
Calf-Length Kathy and the Dolt meander down the hallway to the Garthalike's office. In a startling display of continuity, Kathy has Phoebe's jacket slung over one arm. The Garthalike emerges from his lair and is a bit taken aback by the presence of the Dolt. He quickly covers his surprise and asks the Dolt whether he'd mind waiting outside while he interviews Kathy. The Dolt readily agrees, and the Garthalike escorts Kathy into his office, shutting the door behind them. The Dolt reaches for a magazine, but just barely catches sight of Shadow Cole slithering under the door after the Garthalike. The Dolt orbs into the office just as the Garthalike tosses Kathy up against the wall to knife her. Dolt fu ensues. (Dolt fu is a registered trademark of Subster on the forums. Just so you know.) He chops the Garthalike on the back of the neck and orbs out with Kathy. The Garthalike rises from the floor, enraged.
Manor. Cole races down the stairs in a tweedy grey jacket I want for my own. It looks like an obscenely expensive Hermes I salivated over once in the Marshall Field's boutique. A quick check with Phoebe reveals that the Garthalike is neither upstairs nor down. The Dolt orbs in with Kathy to let them know that the A.D.A. is responsible. The Garthalike squiggles in behind them at that moment and hurls an FBOD toward the four. Phoebe pushes Kathy and the Dolt up the stairs as Cole retaliates with an FBOD of his own. The Garthalike shrugs off the FBOD: "You're gonna have to do better than that." He then morphs up into his demonic form. Piper, Raige, and Emma rush in from the kitchen -- past the bionic brat in a car seat on the dining room table -- and Piper freezes the Garthalike. Raige scuttles over to him, and after a brief, squeamish pause, slices off a bit of his forearm. It looks like a strip of raw bacon. She gingerly picks it up off the floor as the Garthalike twists out of the freeze. The Garthalike swings a fist at Raige, who snipers to the carpet. Cole tackles Piper and Emma to the dining room floor as the Garthalike sends an FBOD into the bionic brat. Cole rises and morphs up into Belthazor as the women huddle on the floor. Emma takes one look at Belthazor and utters, "Oh, my God." We get the feeling she's not admiring his physique. Belthazor, oddly enough, is wearing not his usual turtleneck and jacket, but a sleeveless black muscle tee similar to the one sported by the Garthalike. The demons engage in a little pissing contest, then toss simultaneous FBODs that collide in mid-air. The Manor rattles as if enduring an earthquake. The Garthalike vows to "finish this later," and squiggles out. Piper collects herself from the floor and asks whether everyone's all right. Phoebe notices the stern expression on Emma's face and calls out to her. Emma advances on Belthazor, spitting, "[The Garthalike] isn't the one who killed my fiancé." She stabs the air with a finger directed towards remaining demon. "He is." I'd give that a DUN! but I saw that coming five scenes ago. Phoebe looks distraught and Michael Bailey Smith does his best to look abashed from beneath all that makeup and the colored contacts as we cut to commercial.
Cigarettes are my anti-drug.
Manor hall. Aftermath. "He's a killer!" Emma screams. "What is the matter with you people?" Piper attempts to restrain her as Phoebe tries to explain how Cole's status has altered since the last time Emma encountered him. Emma's having none of it and snatches up Cole's dagger from a nearby table. In what is a pretty damn cool bit of business, she whips it at him end over end, but he grips onto the hilt at the last moment, the blade inches from his throat. Excellent. "How can you defend a murderer?" Emma demands of Phoebe. "How can you live with yourself?" She spins on her cowboy-booted heel and storms out of the Manor. "Is she right?" Raige acidly inquires from a Victorian loveseat. "Are you the one who killed him?" Cole's silent, but cannot bring himself to meet her eyes. Phoebe tells Raige now is not the time -- they have another demon to fry. She asks Piper and Raige to brew up the Garthalike vanquish. Raige eases past with the Garthalike bacon on a china plate, shooting Cole a filthy look like she just realized she'd been living with Ted Bundy for the last few weeks. Honey, weren't you just drooling over the guy a couple of episodes ago? Fickle bitch. Piper appears to be wearily overwhelmed by this turn of events. Phoebe quietly endures the stares from both of her sisters, then turns with the sotto voce, "We need to talk." Cole mutely follows her upstairs, and thus begins the segment of the episode that took me completely by surprise. Details to follow, of course, including my irritation at how Kern and Scovell tried to have it both ways, but this scene is where it began.
Phoebe eases open the door to her boudoir and allows Cole to enter. He tentatively runs his thumbs up and down the dagger's handle as he murmurs, "Don't tell me you're scared of me." Phoebe's little floral choker seems to have evolved into a sentient being during the trip upstairs. The roses have migrated to the left side of her neck. Cole admits that he believes Emma is right. The dagger is his; he did kill her fiancé, even though he can't remember doing so. "I don't even remember what he looked like," he continues as he sits on her bed. "Didn't matter what they looked like, only that I did as I was told. He was a witch; The Source viewed him as a threat." Cole's starting to babble. Phoebe shushes him as she crosses to his side. She knows what Cole once was, and she doesn't care because he's not the same person anymore. "Aren't I?" he asks. The demon continues to lurk within his fine self. Doesn't that matter at all? Phoebe urges him to consider all the good he's accomplished since then. Cole ponders this, then ruefully reaches a conclusion: "Doesn't balance out. Doesn't even come close." It was at this point that I checked my notes to make sure Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon had nothing to do with this episode. They've slid into a bizarre dialogue on the necessity of forgiveness, the possibility of redemption, and the merits of discarding the life of one who has taken the life of others, regardless of the good that person might accomplish in the future. Is rehabilitation something one guilty of crimes so horrendous can achieve, and how is it determined who is allowed that second chance? Given that potential future good acts can never compensate for past bad ones, should second chances even be considered? Was Karla Faye Tucker a redeemed woman or was she the same sociopath who had multiple orgasms while hacking someone to death with a pickaxe? Don't worry. The writers cock the whole thing up eventually. At least some things are consistent on this show.
Cole stands to lay it on the line for Phoebe. As the Garthalike has been so successful in emulating Belthazor, if the vanquishing potion for whatever reason doesn't work, Cole may have to give himself over to his demonic half completely to defeat the other demon. Once he does so, he's afraid he can't reverse himself again. Phoebe doesn't want to hear any of this, and rises from the bed to fetch a jacket and her bag. She intends to go after Emma to try to reason with her once more. Cole's not of the opinion that this will be helpful in the least. He asks whether she still has "some of that Belthazor vanquishing potion" left over from the last go-round. She reluctantly admits that she does. He orders her to find it. It may be the only way to stop him. He sidles past her to vanish down the hallway. She gazes after him for a moment, then turns to slide open a dresser drawer. She lifts a small bottle of clear pale red liquid, and slips it into her purse. Now, is this the actual vanquishing potion, or the Demon Be Gone? Because the potion was pink and cloudy, and the Demon Be Gone, while clear and red, looked more like a Merlot. Why am I even asking? It's not like I'm going to get an answer.
Down in the kitchen, Piper has Raige dump a pig's foot into the steaming broth on the stove. "Poor little piggy," Raige commiserates. "They're sensitive creatures, you know," she PSAs. "Smart, too." "Yeah, not that one," Piper offhandedly notes. Flames leap from the broth once the foot has been added. Piper, remembering what happened the last time they did this, instructs Raige to add the Garthalike bacon. Piper backs herself far away from the simmering pot as Raige uses a spatula to flip the bacon from the china plate into the stew. The broth, of course, explodes in her face, dumping her onto her ass on the floor. Why they didn't recite the spell beforehand is beyond me. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Raige grits from the floor. Piper chuckles as she helps Raige to her feet, admitting that the same thing happened to her and claiming that there's "no substitute for experience." Raige grins gamely and gives Piper a playful shove as Cole, having heard the explosion, enters to check on their well-being. Cole explains where Phoebe has gone, eliciting a derisive snort from Raige. Cole coolly tells her to cram it with the guilt. He's got enough of his own, thank you very much, so butt out. Raige isn't giving up so easily. Piper warns, "[Raige], don't." Raige wheels on her. "'Don't' what, Piper? He killed a man. Are you condoning that?" Piper none-too-gently slams a pair of potholders down. "It's just not that simple," Piper flatly states. "He can't change the past, and you've seen how much good he's helped us do. That's who he is now, and we accept that." Raige flicks a "whatever" shoulder and rolls her eyes as if to say, "Yeah, and Richard Speck grew titties down in Joliet while he was snorting coke off his boyfriend's ass." Cole steps toward Piper, thanking her. He asks if he can be of any assistance in tracking down the Garthalike. Piper's fine with that. What does Cole propose? Cole reasons that if the Garthalike is still "emulating" him, he'll focus on the Charmed Ones themselves . First, though, he'd need to regroup. Piper guesses that the regrouping would take place at the Mausoleum's mausoleum. Right you are, says Cole, but the Garthalike would likely set a trap there for Cole and any other person who might be along for the ride. Not to worry, though -- Cole can sense any such trap. Piper grabs a bottle of the freshly brewed Garthalike vanquish, and the three make to leave.
Just then, the Dolt enters from the dining room, cradling the scorched bionic brat in his arms. Piper's all clutching her pearls and "Honey! What happened?" as if she hadn't hoped the brat had long since been sent to Hell. "Sykes," is the Dolt's pitiable, monosyllabic reply. Aw. The Dolt is so sad. "I guess you were right," he glums further. If he had a lower lip, it would be trembling right about now. Piper claims that she didn't want to be right, and strokes his arm. Raige rightfully rages, "Who's gonna pay for this?" Piper shoots her a look, then turns back to the Dolt. The three are on a Garthalike hunt, so the Dolt had better make himself scarce and take Calf-Length Kathy with him. She kisses him on the cheek and exits, a sullen Raige and nonchalant Cole following closely behind. Left alone, the Dolt holds up the scorched brat, and its left leg drops off to the floor. It would have been amusing were it not for the accompanying Belching Oboe Of Baby Care Gone Horribly Awry.
Random city street. Phoebe, amazingly enough, has steered the Jeep Grand Cherokee right on over to Emma's current coordinates. She jumps out and makes with the begging. You know those tacky plastic flag holders that have been advertised on late-night television almost from the day the Trade Center fell? The ones that come with the removable flag stickers and three or four miniaturized Old Glorys all for the low, low price of $19.95 if you send your check or money order to the address on your screen? Yeah, well the props crew dialed the 800 number and now one of them's on the Cherokee, complete with small flag. Classy. Anyhoo, Emma, arms crossed tightly across her chest, tries to ignore the Feebs and fails. Phoebe knows that nothing she says to Emma can alter the past, but "there is something that might help." Phoebe wants Emma "to know that Cole has dedicated his life to good now." Emma aggressively rolls her eyes and takes off down the sidewalk. Phoebe takes off after her, stammering, "And I'm not saying it excuses what he did." "Damn right it doesn't," snorts Emma over her shoulder. Phoebe continues, "All I'm saying is that the demon you're looking for no longer exists." Emma stops dead in her tracks at this outrage and flails her arms around as she turns to smack Phoebe down. "Oh. My. God! Who are you trying to kid? Are you blind?" No, Emma, but she is a little on the dim side. Emma ignores me. "Did you not see what he turned into? That monster still exists whether you want to believe it or not." Phoebe, out of her league, starts, "Technically, yes. But..." "Not technically," Emma interrupts. "Actually. He's alive, and I'm not going to rest until he's dead no matter what you say." She's reminding me of every Oklahoma City relative who was incessantly interviewed way back in the closing weeks this past spring. "All that would do is keep him from doing future good and put your life at risk in the process," Phoebe argues. She continues, a bit more self-servingly: "Please -- please. Let it go." "'Let it go'?" Emma demands incredulously. "Have you ever lost someone? To [Eeevil]?" "Yes," Phoebe whispers meekly. "And did you just 'let it go'?" Phoebe's silence is more than enough of an answer. Emma gazes at her as if Phoebe wouldn't even be worth wiping off the soles of those cowboy boots of hers, then turns to go. You know, considering how lightweight this show normally is, this episode makes it feel like I'm recapping The West Wing by comparison.
Mausoleum's mausoleum. Cole cautiously snakes down the stairs, trailed by Raige and Piper. They make their way across the stone floor before Cole, sensing a trap, yanks Raige back from one of the flagstones. He orders the women to back away and tosses a hefty candle holder onto the floor. A gout of flame leaps into the air as a ring of fire quickly races in towards the center. The flame erupts into a collapsing pillar of fire that disappears into the floor. The three rush forward, but the Garthalike is nowhere to be seen. Cole quickly supposes that his initial instinct was wrong. The Garthalike isn't after the sisters; he's after Cole. Remember way back when the Garthalike gutted the blonde and left her corpse behind but FBOD'd the phone guy? It wasn't just to give Dorian Gregory some lines. It was to lure the Halliwells, knowing that wherever they turned up, Cole was certain to follow. Smooth. Very smooth. The three determine that Phoebe is in grave danger, and head back to the Manor.
Manor hall. Phoebe enters and calls out for Cole. The Garthalike squiggles in behind her, placing her in a choke hold while menacing with his knife. Phoebe asks him what he wants. He wants the same thing she does, he reveals: "Only I call him Belthazor." He glances down at the carpet, where Phoebe's fallen purse has disgorged its contents. He notes the vial of Demon Be Gone and adds, "And I don't need a potion to vanquish him." Phoebe goggles. The Garthalike squiggles us all into commercial.
Manor hall. The three from the cemetery barge in to note Phoebe's discarded purse. Cole tells the mausoleum Ps to check the cellar while he heads upstairs.
Attic. Phoebe's bound to a chair. The Garthalike makes with the menacing. Phoebe must be "something special, to turn a demon." Whatever. We all know you're toast by the end of the evening, so let's just move this along, okay, hon? He tells Phoebe that by lessening the Eeevil of the Colethazor, she also managed to lessen his demonic strength. Only he's so very boring in doing so. He leans in to nuzzle her ear as Cole bursts through the door. Threats. Promises of disembowelment. "Cole, leave. He's bluffing." More threats. You look like Garth Brooks. Shut up. Forever. Cole finally whispers a gentle question to Phoebe: "You remember what I told you? What I asked you to do?" Phoebe pleads with him to go. Cole takes a long moment to gaze upon her, then unhinges his jaw in an earsplitting wail. Phoebe averts her eyes. Cole morphs up into Belthazor. The Garthalike follows his lead. Manly Flaming Balls Of Death are tossed hither and yon. Meaty pounding of fists. The Garthalike squeezes Belthazor in a bone-crunching embrace that comes across as far more kinky than I'm certain they thought it would be. The sounds of struggle reach the mausoleum Ps in the parlor. They scurry up the stairs. The Garthalike flips Belthazor face down on a desk and starts dry-humping him. You think I'm making this up? I wish I were. Belthazor rears his ass into the air, sending the Garthalike to the ceiling. After the Garthalike has come crashing back to the floor, Belthazor grabs the Garthalike's dagger and prepares to hack through him. The battling demons suddenly freeze. Ladies and gentlemen, Piper is in the house!
Piper and Raige run to Phoebe's aid as the demons twist their way out of the freeze.
Downstairs, Emma clatters into the hallway and retrieves the Demon Be Gone from the floor.
Up in the attic, the gals free the bound P and leap off to the side as a group in time to witness Belthazor plunging the blade into the Garthalike's prominent pectoral. The Garthalike and Belthazor wail mightily as the Garthalike spouts tongues of fire before he blazes on down to Hell. So, an upper-level demon can only be vanquished through a potion brewed with his own flesh, huh? Bite me. Belthazor advances on the trio of sisters, ignoring Phoebe's repeated requests that he morph back into Cole. Raige calls for Piper to try the Garthalike vanquish on Belthazor. Phoebe screams no, and continues to plead with him. Emma pops in and hurls the Demon Be Gone into Belthazor's back. A wall of fire encircles Belthazor, who gives Phoebe some serious puppy-dog eyes before emitting a guttural howl and vanishing. A shocked Cole is left standing in his place, enshrouded by smoke. Cole drops to his knees as Raige wonders what in hell just happened. "That was the power-stripping potion," Phoebe breathes before throwing herself into Cole's arms. I was right -- it was the Demon Be Gone. Question: I thought he had to drink it. So what's with this breaking a bottle of it on his back? Huh? Huh? ANSWER ME!
I think an intervention is in order.
Emma remains unsatisfied. Spotting the Garthalike dagger that had fallen from Cole's hand, she snatches it from the carpet to inflict grievous bodily harm on our favorite no-longer-demonic boy toy. Phoebe, looking and sounding exactly like Natalie Wood in West Side Story, shoots out her hand and throatily shouts, "NO!" "You got your revenge," she tells Emma. "You killed the demon you were after. Belthazor's dead -- gone forever." She pauses for a round of reaction shots. Cole's still kneeling on the floor like a penitent in a confessional. "Cole's a human being," Phoebe continues at last. "An innocent." Emma reluctantly relinquishes the dagger. Her expression seems to say that not only has vanquishing Belthazor not given her "closure" (a word I hate with the blazing passion of a thousand fiery suns), but also that she has no idea how to move forward with her life now that her goal of seeking vengeance for her fiancé has finally been met. Kindly refer to the above reference to the people of Oklahoma City. The West Side Story references keep coming, as a modified version of the first bar of "Somewhere" is incorporated into the strings underscoring the action. The scene ends with a shot of Cole's stunned face dissolving into a shot of the sun setting over the city.
Congratulations, Mr. Kern and Ms. Scovell. For the very first time since I started watching this show, you honestly surprised me by incorporating a divisive, real-life issue into the storyline. Especially now, when our fearless president is abrogating the Constitution by issuing an executive order that allows non-citizens to be hauled before military Star Chambers that may very well impose the death penalty on those deemed guilty. Here's my problem with all of this: you dropped the ball. Not only did you drop it, you stomped on it with your expensive loafers and stiletto heels until it burst at the seams. Claiming that Cole deserves to live because "the devil inside made him do it" and that with said devil vanquished, Cole may be excused from any personal responsibility for his actions is beyond insulting. If John Wayne Gacy had undergone an exorcism, we wouldn't have had to stick a needle in his arm? Whatever. I appreciate the effort, but if you choose to do something like this in a future episode, don't be so half-assed about it.
ANYway. P3. Piper scribbles out a check to cover half the replacement cost for the scorched bionic brat, bitching the whole time that the brat was Raige's idea in the first place. As she slides the check across the bar, she sighs, "Well, at least it served its purpose." "In spades," notes the downcast Dolt. Aw. Not. Shut it, Dolt. Piper promises him that they will have children eventually, just not at any point in the near future. She hikes herself up on the bar to lean across for a kiss. Raige withers a pointless snark about the two of them getting married before adding that Phoebe and Cole should never walk down the aisle together. She still can't wrap her mind around the idea that Cole is, basically, a serial killer. Piper corrects her yet again: "That wasn't Cole. It was Belthazor." "Splitting hairs, if you ask me," Raige snarks back. Get over yourself, Raige. You're just pissed your sister's engaged to a totally hot guy when you can barely keep a slampiece around past coffee the morning after. The Dolt claims it's not "splitting hairs." Cole's "human half had nothing to do with any of that -- it was totally subjugated." Whatever. See the paragraph above. Piper wonders what the non-demonic boy toy will do with himself now that he's fully human. Knowing this show, they'll slot him into some tediously predictable yet undeniably "good" job like public defender or legal-aid attorney. I suppose we'll have to wait and see.
Cut to the Manor exterior. Up in her boudoir, Phoebe frets and paces, waiting for Cole. Her hair's pulled all the way up from her head. Add a couple of white streaks blazing back from her temples and she'd be Elsa Lanchester. When Cole finally walks through the door, Phoebe practically flies through the air to cling to his neck. Cole's a bit taken aback by this overwhelming reception. He'd simply gone for a walk to clear his head, and before he knew it, he was running late. He tried to squiggle back to the Manor, then realized he will never squiggle again. Dude, why didn't they have a little scene of him on some random street corner trying real hard to squiggle? That would have been sweet. Cole's perplexed. He's been a dark demonic force sent from the flaming maw of Hell for more than a century, and now that's no longer who he is. Where does he go from here? This isn't where he intended to be. Apologies. I hate it when Evita moments happen. The two cross to the bed and sit, Cole at a loss and Phoebe doing her best to comfort him. Phoebe reassures him that he's still the "good man that [she] fell in love with." "But not the one you want to marry," he notes. Phoebe lifts her head from his shoulder to assure him that whatever reservations she has about marriage are her own issues. At some point in the future, she may be ready to take that step with him, but not now. "I still don't know where that leaves us," he tells her, "especially now." Phoebe's sick-making response to this? "Just because you aren't a demon anymore doesn't mean we can't live in sin." Ew! EW! She drops back onto the comforter, pulling him down on top of her. Loud, wet, smacking kisses hit the soundtrack as we fade to black.
week, no Charmed for Thanksgiving. Instead, you get two hours of the very pretty Clark Kent. Pretty, pretty, pretty. Enjoy. I know I will. Hey, did I mention how pretty he is?