Fade up on an exterior nighttime shot of the Manor. A flash of blue light from within flares out through the windows. In the parlor, Piper squeals and hurtles over a sofa to dodge a comet-like projectile flung from an unseen source. The comet blazes past her to blow a boulder-sized hole through the wall. Piper pops up from behind the couch to whip her head around at the intruder responsible. Said intruder is a sassy and fierce demonette of color who would look a bit like Aneesa from The Real World: Chicago, if Aneesa had a thing for skin-tight black leather outfits and ice-blue contacts. Aneesa whips another comet in Piper's direction. Her aim is a little off, and the comet plows into the sofa instead. Piper screams for Raige through a cloud of upholstery fragments and feathers. Raige immediately orbs in with Phoebe, directly in front of the demonette. Piper hollers out a warning as Aneesa prepares to shoot another comet from her outstretched hand. Phoebe bats the demonette's hand to the side, and the comet slices through the upright piano. Irritated at being so thwarted, Aneesa hauls off and clocks Phoebe in the jaw as the distressed piano rumbles out a jangly low chord. Phoebe flies through the air to smack into the mantelpiece, taking out both the mirror above the fireplace and Raige in the process. As Phoebe and Raige crash to the carpet, Piper somersaults across the room to boot Aneesa in the stomach. Aneesa crumples to the floor. Piper darts over to her sisters while extracting a sheet of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. The three ladies recite as follows:
Claws of pain we have to sever: Demon, you are gone forever.
Aneesa throws a grand mal seizure as flames burst from her leather togs. She howls and shudders and eventually explodes.
The Glamorous Ladies rise from the carpet as Piper apologizes for calling Phoebe back to the Manor on such short notice. Aneesa, it seems, was "immune" to Piper's molecular manipulation, thereby explaining the need for the Power of Three. Raige notes a nasty scratch Phoebe received during the brief battle, and asks if Phoebe's okay. Phoebe insists she is, and the three stroll casually into the hallway, engaging in idle small talk about Phoebe's job and new apartment as they go. Their nonchalant tone is sort of amusing given everything what just happened, until Phoebe doofs that "it's good to know [they] can live apart and still kick some butt if [they] have to," and I return from amusement to irritation. Raige and Piper half-heartedly snicker in awkward agreement, so you know they have an enormous problem with the new living arrangements but refuse to confront Phoebe with their concerns. Speaking of items of concern, how about Raige's outfit? Low-slung jeans cinched with a bubblegum-pink belt under a rainbow-striped pastel off-the-shoulder top featuring a black silk-screen of Liza Minelli's face sprayed across the front. Well, not so much Liza's entire face as it is impressions of her eyes, the tip of her nose, and her mouth. Think of the print ads for Cabaret, and then wonder what Raige was smoking when she decided to buy a blouse with Liza's face on it.
After a pause loaded with unexpressed feelings of resentment on Piper and Raige's part, Phoebe asks for the skinny on Aneesa. Piper rattles off the relevant facts: "Harpy, part of a faction, kept wandering naked around the Manor and taking a dump with the bathroom door open. The usual stuff." She invites Phoebe to stay for dinner, but Phoebe must be on her way. The Sole "planned this whole romantic thing," you see. Piper's clearly disappointed to hear this, as she needs to discuss something with Phoebe. However, she chooses instead to roll her shoulders around while insisting they can chat whenever. Raige offers to orb Phoebe back to the penthouse, but Phoebe begs off. The Sole doesn't want Raige orbing over without calling first. Raige raises her eyebrows in surprise, but agrees to abide by The Sole's request. After another awkward pause, Phoebe promises to call them tomorrow and turns to head out the front door.
As soon as the front door clicks shut behind Phoebe, Raige whips out the valley-girl intonation and brats, "No. Orbing?" "Don't start," Piper warns. She's sure Cole means merely to "protect their privacy." Piper peels off to the kitchen, leaving Raige to pout alone in the hall. Raige stares into the middle distance and snots, "He's trying to protect something."
"I'm just trying to protect our assets," The Sole smarms as he gazes out the window of his apartment high above the city. "And the only way to do that is to cut our losses -- consolidate our resources." The window reflects a fiery sunset currently in progress across the bay behind the Golden Gate Bridge to remind us all how choice The Sole's current digs supposedly are. He turns from the window to babble some more corporate-speak at a group of middle-management types seated around a glass-topped conference table. The Sole's proposing a "merger." "Everyone here has similar agendas," he argues, "so why don't we work together to accomplish them?" His nattering halts when a Fury smokes into the conference room. The Sole chides her for being late and orders her to sit down. Get it? The middle managers are really dark demonic forces sent from the flaming maw of Hell. Isn't that clever? And all this time you thought middle managers were just soulless assholes. Also, how sad that The Sole Of All Evil is reduced to delivering Total Quality Management lectures to his minions. The Fury takes her place at the foot of the table as Belinda The Demonic P.A. Of Easy Virtue escorts a tardy Grimlock over to another seat. A skeptical gentleman in a leather jacket snipes about holding hands and buying the world a Coke or something, leading The Sole to blather on about new business models for a new millennium and wah. He makes a "demon-eat-demon world" non-funny that elicits a mangled grin from an extra made up to look like Tom Waits. At this point in the evening's proceedings, WGN would like you all to know a severe thunderstorm warning has been issued for Kenosha and Racine Counties in Wisconsin, so every single one of you should turn off the television and go hide in the bathtub in a show of solidarity with our cheeseheaded neighbors to the north. I, for one, wish WGN would take it a step further and switch over to live coverage of tornadoes slicing through downtown Milwaukee, because that would rule, whereas this scene does the exact opposite of whatever it is that ruling supposedly does.
Belinda busies herself by pouring viscous refreshments for the group while The Sole continues to argue his point. The "faction leaders" gathered at the meeting waste time and energy battling each other for control of the Underworld. As a result of the infighting, the forces of good tend to prevail. Wouldn't it make more sense for the demonic legions to set aside their differences? The Harpy leader -- a fiercer version of her recently vanquished underling whom I shall call Betty, for that is the actress's name, and "Betty" equals comedy gold, people -- instructs The Sole to direct his little lecture to the Grimlock at her elbow. After all, he was primarily responsible for the most recent pissing contest between the Harpies and the Grimlocks, wasn't he? Betty and the Grimlock snarl and scratch at each other for a bit before The Sole tells them to cram it. Their sordid little display is a perfect example of the sort of feuding he wants to avoid in the future. "The only way for us to defeat good," he asserts, "is for us to work together to achieve common goals." Betty and the Grimlock ease themselves back into their seats as the skeptic sneers, "And who will decide what these goals are? You?" The Sole's all, "You wanna try to take me, Bucky? Bring. It. On!" with the menacing and such, and then the elevator bell dings.
The Sole shoots a quick glance over at the elevator bank and announces, "The meeting's adjourned." The various demonic middle managers plus Belinda smoke and squiggle and ray and waft and blink and evaporate immediately. The Sole waves a hand across the conference table, which vanishes as well. As the elevator doors slide open to reveal the Feebs, The Sole flings out his other hand to conjure up a small table laden with a candlelit dinner for two. "Hi, honey," he chirps, crossing halfway across the room to her. "You're home early." The Feebs beams. Credits.
Back from the break, some alterna-testicle is telling me he believes that everyone can fly-yi-i-ie while the camera pans across San Francisco before landing on The Kim Novak Memorial Condominium Tower. Up in the penthouse, The Sole presents Phoebe with a "vegetarian egg-white omelet" she finds impossible to eat. Her tummy's a little upset, don't you know, and she's nursing a headache to boot. Personally, I wouldn't be able to choke down a vegetarian egg-white omelet even if it were my first meal in days. The Sole raises a sly eyebrow at Phoebe's excuse, clearly recognizing her complaints as morning sickness. He keeps this to himself, however, choosing instead to suggest she call in sick if she's not feeling so hot. Phoebe pshaws, "What would San Francisco do without my advice column?" Thrive, Phoebe. Thrive. Phoebe asks if he'd mind hosting a dinner party for her sisters later that week, as she'd like to rub their noses in her newfound affluence. He hesitates, then agrees after receiving her assurance the in-laws won't be orbing into the apartment anytime soon.
The Sole moves in to peck her on the cheek, but pulls up short when he catches sight of the gouge in her shoulder from the evening's Harpy attack. She insists the wound is minor, but he promptly overreacts, nearly screaming into her face about taking better care of herself. His tone softens when he notes her injured expression, and he apologizes, insisting he has only her best interests at heart. They move in for a clinch that's interrupted by the entrance of Belinda. She lies that his nine o'clock is waiting for him in the hall. Phoebe makes with the barely concealed jealousy as her husband makes with the lame "they're repainting the office" excuses. Phoebe too-brightly smiles, "Oh! Okay! Fine!" and gathers her belongings to leave. Belinda's eyes audibly roll around in her head. "Make yourself at home," Phoebe snarks as she glides past Belinda to the elevator. "Thanks," offers the trampy P.A. "I will." The moment Phoebe's gone, The Sole orders Belinda to fetch Betty, Queen of the Harpies. He'd like to have a word with her regarding "the consequences of attacking [his] wife." Belinda grinds her teeth and squiggles out.
Cut to the Batcave. What? It's a cave, and there are bats. Granted, the "bats" look like Beanie Babies on sticks with rubber wings stapled onto their backs, but still. Bill Clinton's erstwhile girlfriend Elizabeth Gracen reposes on a pile of satin pillows beneath a canopy of sheer crimson fabric as the light thrown from a couple of flaming braziers dances across her saline implants. We'll soon discover the braziers aren't the only things in the room that are flaming, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Get it? "A-head"? Okay, no more oral sex jokes. I promise. Maybe. A quartet of scantily clad strumpets pamper Miss Knee Pads 1982 while she conducts business with the skeptical gentleman from the pre-credits sequence, and get your minds out of the gutter. He's got his pants on. Besides, for this evening, she's definitely not that kind of a girl. Lizzie scoffs that she'd never think of attacking a new Source without speaking to him first. The skeptic suggests she remove her head from the general vicinity of her ass and get real. One look at her bosom should be enough to tell anyone this woman hasn't seen "real" since the Ford administration. The skeptic ignores me in favor of violating the exposition with a cattle prod. Lizzie and her strumpets were banished from Hell eons ago, and there's no reason to think The Sole will let them back in anytime soon. The skeptic doesn't believe The Sole has what it takes to lead the various demonic hordes, so he's come to Lizzie with a business proposal of his own: if she and her minions join forces with the skeptic and his, they will all rule Hell together. Lizzie mulls this over silently, sharing a lingering lesbionic moment as she does so with the strumpet doing her nails. She instructs the skeptic to leave her with her, um, thoughts for a while. She'll contact him when she's reached a decision. The skeptic squiggles out.
Lizzie glances over to a clean-shaven Sam Ball, who's been observing the negotiation, and warbles, "Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near?" He responds by swiveling his hips around, curling his upper lip into a rakish sneer, and yodeling his best Elvis impersonation. Okay, they do no such things, but you have to believe me when I tell you he was really, really good in Urbania, and I have no idea why he's suddenly guesting on all of these crappy WB shows. thing you know, he's going to show up as Simon's much-older boyfriend on 7th Heaven. Sam: Please. Get a new agent. Lizzie smiles playfully at Sam and says, "I want you to offer the new Source an olive branch." If The Sole accepts it, fine. If not, she notes, "Keats [the skeptic] has a new ally, and we have a new enemy." Sam grins back at her and turns to follow her instructions, leaving me to wonder what one calls the gay male equivalent of a fag hag for lesbians. Is Sam Lizzie's dyke tyke? Lizzie shoos away the strumpets so she can fondle her implants in peace.
Manor kitchen. A solemn and silent Piper dries dishes at the sink as the Dolt dolts in to place some leftovers in the refrigerator. He tries to engage in fluffy banter, but she obviously has some weighty matters on her mind. However, she gamely attempts to respond to him as she moves to the center island, noting that the Manor "is so quiet" now that Phoebe and Cole have fled to their aerie. "Everybody I grew up with is gone," she states wistfully. Wow. And it's all Phoebe's fault, isn't it? Phoebe killed their mother through her sheer stupidity, she killed their grandmother with her wanton shoplifting, and then she killed The Late Lamented with that savage contract renegotiation before running away with her boy-toy. With that track record, Piper'd best give some serious consideration to vanquishing Phoebe's sorry ass.
So I'm being a little revisionist. Sue me.
The Dolt crosses to Piper and embraces her, promising to fill her up with baby after baby so they make the Manor "noisy again with kids -- people who will grow up with us." Here's where I'd inform him in no uncertain terms to keep the little Dolt as far away from me as possible at all times, but Piper's a bit more polite. She merely smiles and leans in for a kiss. Gee. Do you think she's hiding something from him? Raige clomps in, squeezed into a pink tube top that's two sizes too small over a denim mini that's five inches too short. She powers over to the coffeepot, apologizing blithely for the interruption. The Dolt tells her it's okay -- he's late for a meeting with The Powers That Be, anyway. "There's been an upsurge in demonic activity," he explains, "and the Elders want to figure out why." Jesus. These morons make Dubya look like a polymath. It's been three months, people. Three. Months. Bah. The Dolt orbs out after pecking Piper on the lips. Raige, not nearly as retarded as her brother-in-law, realizes Piper has some unvoiced issues, and calls her on them. Piper sighs and dismisses her concerns of the past few days as "silly." Aunt Flo was a tad late in arriving for her monthly visit, and Piper "got [her] hopes up" as a result. Raige says it for me: Piper's concerns aren't silly. After all, she's not getting any younger, is she? Sorry. That second bit was just me. Piper crosses back to the sink, worrying that perhaps she got knocked around one too many times by a demon, and now her uterus is broken. Raige brushes this off, assuring Piper that sooner or later she'll get that bun she's been longing for right in her oven where it belongs. She just needs to be patient. After all, isn't Raige "living proof of the magic that happens when Whitelighters and witches get together"? I know. Ew. But McGowan improbably sells it. "The sooner you stop worrying about it," she says, "the sooner I will be an aunt." Piper bats Raige on the thigh and says, "Thanks." Raige belts Piper back in the arm and smiles, "You're welcome." The two nudge shoulders and grin. God help me, but that was sweet.
Casa Del Sole. Someone's twisted the right hand off a department store mannequin, painted the stump red, and left it lying on The Sole's desk. The camera pans up to The Sole's stern face, then cuts over to Belinda. She informs him that Queen Betty won't be able to take The Sole's meeting after all. That's supposed to be Queen Betty's hand on the desk? The skin tone is completely off. Whatever. The Sole compliments Belinda on a job well done, and inquires as to the item on the day's agenda. She reveals "Rowan" is waiting in the antechamber. "The queen would like in on the new alliance," she adds. Rowan? Queen? What? The Sole instructs Belinda to show this Queen Rowan in. She pauses to point at each of the windows. The shades noisily drop one by one, then Belinda turns towards the hall. "He'll see you now," she breathes into the shadows, and out pops Sam. We'll not be calling him Rowan, because if we do, I'll keep looking around for Joanne Worley. Sam thanks The Sole for the audience, and attempts to convey Lizzie's wishes for a reconciliation between her people and his. The Sole refuses to consider any offers from Lizzie and her ilk, and darkly suggests Sam be on his way. Then why did you agree to meet with him in the first place, you jackass? Oh, so Raige can orb into the middle of this secret meeting, which she does, ending up to the Casa's baby grand piano. Raige gapes, immediately aware of her gaffe, and attempts to fob off some story about popping in from the Casa kitchen to see if The Sole needed anything. Sam eyes her up and down, no doubt entertaining the same thoughts I did regarding the hideousness of her outfit, then strides off to the elevator. I should note we still haven't been told what Sam and Lizzie are, but given the bats and the blinds and the alternative lifestyles on display, I think we all know. Out in the hall, Queen Sam eases the door shut.
Back in the Casa proper, The Sole berates Raige for orbing in when he had Phoebe deliver express instructions not to. Raige sneers at him and asks for her sister, as Piper needs to speak with her. Out in the hallway, Queen Sam has activated his little bat ears, and is listening to every word of the argument through the wall. The Sole snidely suggests Raige orb over to The Bay Mirror. "I'm sure those journalists can keep a secret," he snots. Hee. "Journalists." Cole cracks me up. "Dare I ask," Raige snits, "why it's so dark in here in the middle of the day?" The Sole claims a migraine -- one Raige's presence only serves to exacerbate. "You know what, Cole?" snaps Raige, title-style. "Just bite me." She huffs out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
In the hallway, she nearly body-checks Queen Sam, who pretends he's been waiting for the elevator the entire time. The car arrives, and Sam chivalrously allows Raige entry first. As the doors close and the car begins its descent, Sam opens the conversation with, "Nice guy, huh?" Raige, understanding he's referring to Cole but too caught up in her dark fantasies of Sole evisceration to realize he's kidding, glares at Sam like he's just taken a dump in the elevator. Sam clarifies that he was being sarcastic, and introductions are offered. Raige, flustered from her run-in with The Sole, can't seem to get her gaydar in working order and fixes Sam with puppy dog eyes and an enormous, goofy grin of unabashed adoration. Well, either she's flustered or she's one of those unfortunate women who keep falling for guys who know all the words to "The Man Who Got Away." Sam gets a wicked glint in his eye and keeps the banter rolling along, extracting the relevant facts of Raige's exact relation to The Sole as he goes. The elevator hits the ground floor. Sam, now openly leading this poor lass on, asks if they can continue their delightful conversation at some point in the very near future. Raige titters girlishly and invites him to P3 later that evening. She steps from the car, expecting him to follow. He claims he has "underground parking." Raige nods her head around and wanders off as Sam dons a pair of sunglasses and the elevator doors slide shut.
Sodom, Vampire Lesbian Division. King Lizzie's enjoying a bath, and yes, the strumpet manicurist from the prior scene is the lucky gal who gets to sponge her down. Somewhere right now in Chappaqua, Bill Clinton's touching himself, and that, frankly, is a prospect far too disturbing for me to contemplate. Poor Chelsea. No wonder she fled to Europe to hang out with trans-Atlantic trash like Gwynnie and Donatella. With a dad like that, wouldn't you? Another strumpet artfully holds a towel just so, so that the viewing audience cannot glimpse King Lizzie's implants in all their soapy, glistening, immobile glory. Sam finishes filling her in on his encounter in the elevator with Raige. Lizzie's delighted, and gently chides Keats for suggesting that a meeting with The Sole would be useless. If they can convert a Charmed One to their side, she notes, they will be powerful enough to wrest control of the Underworld from anyone who would dare challenge them. Keats, killjoy that he is, points out the flaw in Lizzie's plan: Charmed Ones "don't change sides on a whim." Sam leans close to his shoulder to promise he'll be able to ensure Raige "sees things [their] way."
Sidebar: my first pass through this scene, I didn't bother to think too much about it -- this is Charmed after all. I even found it modestly entertaining in a campy sort of way. You know, they're vampires, for Christ's sake. Grain-of-salt and all that. It wasn't until I went back to edit what I'd written that I developed a nagging unease that quickly amped up to a low-level fury. Aaron Spelling should be shot in the head. That these obviously queer characters are stomping around forcibly "converting" people is bad enough. I'd be willing to suspend the outrage if it stopped there, but it doesn't. Not only are these queer characters forcibly converting presumably "normal" people, they're also such an abomination to the accepted order that they've been banned even from Hell -- so deceitful, so irredeemable, so vile that even The Source Of All Evil wants nothing to do with them. This on a show set in San Francisco. I can just imagine Aaron sipping a vodka tonic in his grotesque mansion, idly remarking to Candy -- who's wrapping gifts in that special room of hers, natch -- that "San Francisco was such a nice place before the faggots took it over."
Or maybe I'm reading too much into the whole thing.
ANYWAY. Lizzie finds Sam's plan deliciously fabulous and instructs him to gather up as many helpers as he might need to complete his mission. That those helpers shall not count among their number the strumpets sponging off Lizzie's implants is implied. Sam grins and takes off. Keats pisses me off by brushing the imaginary gay vampire cooties from the spot on his leather jacket where Sam was whispering into his ear. Fuck you, Keats. And the Brad Kern you rode in on.
P3. Piper and the Dolt approach Raige at the bar, and my. GOD. The NIPPLES, Raige. PUT THEM AWAY. Jesus. They're like coat hooks. Apparently, Raige is all bummed because Sam stood her up or something and Piper's all happy she's married or some such and I'm sorry if I'm being vague, but THE NIPPLES are so terribly distracting. Raige plunks THE NIPPLES down on the bar while airing her latest beef with The Sole. Piper wisely tells her to zip it just as Phoebe appears, looking "haggard." I know this because they all tell me it's so. Phoebe thought she just had a cold, but as her condition worsened throughout the day she realized it might be a side-effect of the Harpy wound. The Dolt, fool that he is, begins to apply the tingly touch right there by the overcrowded dance floor. In turn, Piper, Phoebe, and Raige swat at him jokingly before they all head off to the back office. time, ladies, use vodka bottles. And use them on his head.
Back in the office, the tingly touch is applied with the expected results. Piper invites Phoebe to dine with herself and the Dolt. Phoebe accepts. Raige's NIPPLES beg off, for they don't want Sam thinking they're big losers for waiting hours on end for him to appear. Piper and the Dolt exit as Raige's NIPPLES hold Phoebe back for a quick chat. THE NIPPLES suggest Phoebe have a private, sister-to-sister confab with Piper, and add that this was the reason THEY orbed to Casa Del Sole looking for Phoebe earlier in the day. Phoebe goes apeshit upon learning THE NIPPLES orbed to the aerie after she forbid them to do so. THE NIPPLES offer a sincere apology, but Phoebe pffts at THEM and storms out of the office.
Outside in the parking lot, Raige wanders over to her Volkswagen alone. She stops for a moment when she hears an unnatural but brief shrieking sound, then continues blissfully on. Her guard thus down, Raige never sees the "bat" swooping down to dive-bomb her neck. She crashes face-first to the blacktop, and we get a "bat's"-eye view of her prone form before a swarm of the things careen out of the sky to attack every bit of exposed flesh on her body. Needless to say, they have a vast area of exposed flesh from which to choose. Jesus, these little fur balls are fake. As is the "blood" they're meant to be extracting from her veins. It's almost as if the properties department wadded up strips of brown shag carpet remnants, rolled them around in ketchup, and then stood just outside the frame to pelt Rose McGowan with the results. Eventually, Raige drops into unconsciousness, and the swarm of flying "rodents" shriek and squeal up into the sky as a crane shot pulls up and back and into commercial.
Back from the break, Raige lies in a hospital bed, weak and weary and scarred from the attack, yet still able to joke about her predicament with the doctor in attendance. Piper, Phoebe, and the Dolt barrel in from the hall to pepper her with questions. Raige explains as best she can. Piper finds it all very odd, but the doctor assures her bat attacks are not unheard of in San Francisco. All Raige needs is a lot of bed rest and a painful series of rabies shots, and she'll be as good as new. The doctor's pager chirps, and he excuses himself from the room. Once he's gone, Raige admits she suspects vampires had something to do with the attack. Phoebe waves her hand at this, claiming vampires attack in human form, not as a swarm of airborne rats. The Dolt exposits that vampires "have been ostracized from the Underworld for centuries," and that as far as he knows, "they're part of a whole different network now." Thank you, Dolt. I'm sure Joss Whedon appreciates the in-joke. Lord knows someone has to. I suppose. The doctor re-enters with a nurse in tow. They need to draw some of Raige's blood for a few tests, after which she'll be allowed to return to the Manor. Phoebe eyes Raige's blood spilling into the collection vial in the nurse's hand, and faints dead away onto the floor.
Casa Del Sole. The Sole paces angrily about, fuming over the tardy Phoebe's possible whereabouts. Belinda, ignoring him, fiddles with a Palm Pilot and asks, "What about the Grimlocks?" The Sole misinterprets this, believing Phoebe has fallen prey to that particular sort of demon. Belinda corrects him. Are the Grimlocks to be trusted members of a possible alliance or not? As the phone rings, The Sole mutters that the only person he does not trust is Keats. He picks up his cordless to find Phoebe on the other end, calling on her cell from the Jeep. She explains about the fainting spell and tells him the doctor will be checking her blood for a possible iron deficiency. In the background, Raige winces in pain at the oncoming traffic's headlights. Phoebe then mentions that Raige was attacked by bats. The Sole lifts an eyebrow and repeats this for Belinda's benefit. She locks eyes with him above her Palm Pilot. Phoebe continues that she's heading back to the Manor, and would appreciate it if The Sole could meet her there. He agrees and hangs up the phone. The Sole barks an order for Belinda to gather the faction leaders at the Casa, then Shatners, "Dammit! If the queen wants a war, she's got one!" Fortunately, he does not rend his shirt as he does so. Belinda gapes.
Manor attic. Piper and Phoebe flip through the Book of Shadows in search of dark demonic forces that bite their victims and fly, but at the same time are not vampires. They riffle past entries for the "Manticore" (which elicits terrifying flashbacks for yours truly), the Phoenix, and the "Chupacabra" while the Dolt applies the tingly touch to Raige's numerous wounds. Once she's healed, she announces she's had it for the day and stomps out of the attic to head off to bed. The Dolt joins Piper and Phoebe at the Book and the three joke about the late increase in demonic activity. Piper snickers that "the Demonic Electoral College has called a meeting and they're going to vote in a new Source." Nah. Too easy, and none of the middle managers looked like Katherine Harris, anyway. Though I do wonder what form the Demonic Supreme Court will take. The three giggle about this for a bit, but the giggling dies out as it dawns on them that Piper might be right. No shit, you blockheads. It's about damned time you figured it out. The Dolt solemnly intones, "Evil may have a new leader." In what would be the triumphant return after so long an absence of the Cleansing Burst Of Synchronicity if any of these morons knew what was going on, in rushes The Sole. Phoebe flings herself into his embrace and they cuddle for a moment before he asks after Raige. The Dolt assures him she's fine, but The Sole isn't buying it. "Bats that bite can mean only one thing," he tells them all. Lockjaw? No, that's tetanus. I got it! Cujo. The Sole "guesses" that the exiled vampires are planning to "overtake the Underworld" by converting a Charmed One. Piper gazes at him for a moment, then warily calls out, "[Raige]?"
Downstairs, the gang trundles through the second-floor hallway into Raige's darkened room, calling her name repeatedly as they go. Piper switches on a desk lamp as Phoebe, The Sole, and the Dolt scan the seemingly empty room. "Where did she go?" asks Piper. The camera pulls up and back to reveal Raige, suspended upside-down from the ceiling, seconds before Phoebe spots Raige herself. Phoebe screams, and the others turn just as Raige morphs into a "bat." Rodentia Raige flutters out the open window. Hold the e-mails. I know that bats aren't really rodents, but for one thing, "Chiroptera Raige" sounds silly, and for another, which scenario do you find more likely: the Charmed production staff hiring a bat wrangler, or the Charmed production staff hot-gluing scraps of black plastic trash bags to plush toys and running the results along thin strands of piano wire? Get my point? Good. Phoebe and Piper stare out the window as the shot tracks back into commercial.
Manor attic. Phoebe dumps cloves of garlic and a couple of wooden crosses onto a table as Piper asks the Dolt if he could be a dear and fetch them some holy water. He promises to find some. The Sole, from the background, delicately reminds them that garlic and holy water won't "change [Raige] back." Piper has that one covered: if they vanquish Lizzie, all of her minions die with her. The Sole interjects that this is news to him. Seems the vampires have been fairly adept at keeping that little secret to themselves. He's also pretty damn stoked to be receiving this information as evinced by the gleeful and giddy pee-pee dance he's doing in his corner of the attic. Piper notes further that Raige's newly discovered vampire leanings should disappear if they manage to vanquish Lizzie before Raige has a chance to kill anyone. Unfortunately, the Lizzie vanquish is a Power of Three. Also, all vampires are immune to a witch's powers, so no freezing them or blowing them up, either. The Dolt orbs out to inform TPTB of the new Source and fetch a bottle of holy water while he's at it. The Sole, too-casually, is all, "Source? A new Source? There's a new Source? What? Who?" The gals confirm this, but admit they haven't a clue who the demon may be. The Sole heaves a slight sigh of relief. Piper and Phoebe determine the most likely place to find a bloodsucker is a cemetery, and so scoop up the vampire paraphernalia to exit the Manor. The Sole tries to prevent Phoebe from leaving, holding up her recent fainting spell as a valid excuse not to go. Piper gives him the wicked side-eye and grits her teeth but remains silent as Phoebe lays down the law for her man. Raige is "still my sister," Phoebe asserts, showing a bit of spine for once, "and that doesn't change just because I happen to be sick, or because I'm your wife." Phoebe strides out of the attic. Piper pauses to look down her nose at her brother-in-law, then follows her sister down the stairs. The Sole blazes out of the attic...
...and into the Casa, where the demonic middle management team awaits his arrival. He gives them the bullet on Raige, and orders them to have their minions "exterminate the vampires." Kill the queen, kill them all, et cetera. There's a glaring hair continuity error here, by the way. For some reason, The Sole's 'do in this scene resembles a black plastic cap fused to his head. Maybe blazing from place to place melts the gel. Keats, needless to say, tries to question the wisdom of The Sole's plan. The Source, as is his wont, threatens him with immolation. Keats backs down. The Sole reminds them that his wicked bride is stomping around the cemeteries of San Francisco at the moment, and promises a one-way ticket to Hell for anyone who harms her. The various dark demonic forces blink and smoke and evaporate out of the room, leaving The Sole alone with Belinda and Keats. The Sole and Keats glare at each other for a moment before Keats squiggles away. Belinda approaches her boss, wondering if he intends to allow Raige to die with King Lizzie. The Sole gives her a cryptic non-response.
Sodom, Vampire Lesbian Division. Lizzie snacks on a random twentysomething, then wrinkles her nose and licks her lips in disgust at the taste. Never eat a vegan, Lizzie. Though, of course, the fact that her victim is male might have something to do with the absence of dining pleasure in this particular instance. Sam clears his throat and apologizes for interrupting Lizzie during her meal. Lizzie swivels away from the corpse and eagerly asks, "Is she here?" Sam smiles and allows Raige entrance to the chamber. "She's purrrr-fect," Lizzie growls as she crosses to Raige's side. They've foofed out Rose McGowan's hair to give it more body, and she's sporting her trademark Jungle Red lipstick for this scene. For once, her pale complexion makes sense within the context of the story, and I have to admit, she looks pretty good. Lizzie invades Raige's personal space, asking her if she's hungry. Heh. Of course she's hungry, Liz. She's an actress. I start snickering when Raige admits she's "famished." Yeah, we can tell. Someone feed this girl a cheeseburger already. The strumpets wander into the chamber with strips of crimson satin, with which I'm certain they're meant to fashion some sort of vampire lesbian slutwear for Raige. Lizzie, meanwhile, instructs Raige to return to Piper and Phoebe to convert them as well. Once Raige has tasted their blood, her own transformation will be complete. As an added bonus, the vampires will then have the full Power of Three on their side. Sam smirks that Lizzie's plan smacks of "genius." Raige, however, hesitates. She knows how powerful her sisters are. How could she possibly convert them on her own? "My dear," coos Lizzie. "Look around you. That's what families are for!" Raige kneels before Lizzie to kiss her ring. The camera cuts away before we see her kissing anything else.
Random forbidding warehouse. Inside, Keats confronts a black-clad gentleman I assume is another vampire. Keats demands the gentleman convey a message to Lizzie immediately. Keats would do it himself, but he's afraid he's being followed. Lizzie and her troupe of scantily clad strumpets must leave San Francisco immediately. The vampire grunts a bit in irritation, then clams up when The Sole emerges from the shadows behind Keats. The vampire morphs into "bat" form and attempts to flee, but The Sole nails him with a Flaming Ball Of Death. The "bat" explodes in mid-air. The Sole then suavely turns his attention to Keats. Keats flings an FBOD of his own, but The Sole merely catches it in his hand, where the FBOD sizzles out harmlessly. The boys whip 'em out to mark their territory before The Sole gives Keats a little taste of frying torture. "Let's try this again," The Sole sneers. "Where's the vampire queen?" Keats goggles in fear.
Manor. Sam wanders through the front hall, checking out the decor. Raige emerges onto the stairwell landing to sigh, "They're not here." Sam supposes Piper and Phoebe are out looking for Raige. "Do-gooders," Raige pouts dismissively as she descends the stairs. "I was hoping to get this over with." She looks improbably fine in her lesbionic slutwear. A swathe of crimson satin is wrapped around her bosom and neck to create a midriff-baring top, and she sports a long, loose, gauzy red skirt that swirls around her legs. Sam smirks and cocks an eyebrow, telling her to relax and enjoy the experience. "You're only innocent once," he reminds her. Raige isn't having it. She's "starving," and "it's like [she's] been waiting for this moment [her] entire life." Sam waxes nostalgic, thinking of his own "first time -- the danger, the excitement." Jamming your knee into the parking brake. "That warm glow you feel afterwards." Trying to figure out which pair of underwear is yours. "There's nothing like it." Tell me about it. "How many have you had?" Raige asks. Too many for him to remember, which is some bad news for Sammy Boy. This is, after all, the WB. Anyone that trampy is dead by the end of the hour. Sam urges her to relax, close her eyes, focus, and concentrate on her sisters' location. Raige is, after all, a "hunter" now. She should be able to "track [her] prey." After a beat, Raige lifts her eyelids and breathes, "I know where they are." She settles into that hip-swaying stride favored by vampires of easy virtue everywhere and calls over her shoulder as she exits the Manor, "Tell the queen to expect company." Sam smiles as Raige slinks out of the frame.
The Boneyard. A Grimlock races through the headstones as Piper and Phoebe trail after him, yelling, "Wait! We just want to talk to you!" The Grimlock grimaces and squiggles out. Then, God, in collusion with Commonwealth Edison, decides to spare me the Ps' ensuing dialogue regarding Piper's barren ovaries by having the neighborhood's transformer surge and pop, winking out the electricity throughout my apartment for a good thirty seconds. When the television blinks back on, QVC is trying to sell me an eight-piece set of hardcoat enamel non-stick Cook's Essentials for the low, low price of $68.16, despite the fact it retails for $119.00. And the shipping and handling is only $8.47! I flip back up to WGN in time for Phoebe to groan and double over a headstone as if to vomit into a freshly-turned grave. Damn. Apparently, I did not miss the entire conversation. Phoebe reveals she whizzed all over an EPT stick that morning, but the results were negative. Piper admits she had a similar experience recently. They blather on about babies and sharing their lives with each other and it's all very tedious and then they hug.
Rodentia wings in from above to perch on a massive memorial, where she morphs into her fabulous vampire self. "Awww," she simpers, legs sassily crossed at the knee with a black slingback dangling jauntily from one foot. "Don't I get a hug?" "How did you find us?" Piper demands. Raige reminds her they "share the same blood." "I sniffed you out," she adds, hopping down from her perch. Phoebe brandishes a cross, and Piper has a wreath of garlic around her neck. Snerk. Perhaps because Raige has yet to complete her transformation (duh), these items are useless as a defense, and Raige flips Piper across the cemetery into another headstone. Phoebe and Raige hack and chop at each other with the wacky jujitsu for a while, then Raige starts kicking some serious Phoebe ass. Atta girl. Raige whirls around to land a pump in Phoebe's stomach. Phoebe hurtles backwards through the air to slam ass-first into the dirt. Raige leans over Phoebe's inert form to whisper, "Now it's time we really bond as sisters." Out come the fangs. Just then, the Dolt races in with a fat white squeeze-bottle of holy water, which he holds at waist level. The Dolt squirts holy water all over Raige's back. Yes, it is as disgusting as it sounds. Raige howls and beats a hasty retreat. Raige morphs into "bat" form to flap away. The Dolt quickly helps Piper and Phoebe to their feet, and the three orb out.
Sodom, Vampire Lesbian Division. The trio orbs into Lizzie's chamber. I have no idea how they knew where to go, and quite honestly, at this point I don't care. Piper directs the beam of her flashlight to the Batcave's ceiling, where they spy a colony of the furry things suspended from the rock. "Which one's [Raige]?" asks the Dolt. "How should I know?" Piper snippily replies. Lizzie strides into the room, activating the braziers with a couple of magical flicks of her wrists. With open arms and an inviting smile, she croons, "Welcome to our family," her voice a tender caress. Raige and Sam arrange themselves pleasantly on either side of her. Piper, Phoebe, and the Dolt gape their respective ways into commercial.
Back from the break, the vampires and the witches verbally spar their way to an impasse. Raige refuses to leave with Piper and Phoebe, and Lizzie knows Piper and Phoebe can't vanquish her without Raige's help. Lizzie attempts to bargain with the non-vampy Ps, offering them the Eternal Life package with the Extra-Special, One-Time-Only Added Bonus of Sharing Eternal Life With Each Other! The non-vampy Ps tell Lizzie to put the wares away, because they're not buying. Lizzie besets the non-vampy Ps with her many, many minions. The cloud of "bats" from the ceiling swarms around Piper, Phoebe, and the Dolt. The Dolt's randomly squirting holy water at the dive-bombing "bats," and Brian Krause looks like a complete tool. Eventually, our heroes drop all of their defensive weaponry to the floor. As soon as the Dolt releases his squeeze bottle, Sam pounces on him, hurling him across the cavern, over an altar, and into a wall. Raige leaps onto Piper, while Sam turns his attention to the Feebs. She boots him in the head a couple of times, but none of the kicks have any apparent effect on him. He flips her to the ground and whips out the fangs. Meanwhile, Raige has Piper pinned to the wall for a little fang action of her own. Suddenly, random "bats" burst into gouts of flame in the air above their heads. Lizzie pulls an inadvertent Christina Crawford by wailing, "My babies!" The distraction provided by the flaming airborne fur balls allows the Dolt to wrest Raige off his wife while Phoebe gets the upper hand in her struggle with Sam. Lizzie grabs Raige by the wrist to flee to another room just as Phoebe stakes Sam in the chest with a conveniently-appearing shard of wood. He howls and screams as flame shoots up the stake from the hole in his chest before his entire body explodes. See you later, Sam. Hopefully in something much better than this. Piper, Phoebe, and the Dolt race after Lizzie and Raige.
A couple of chambers over, The Sole blazes in just as Lizzie and Raige dart past. He TKs Raige violently to the floor, where she remains, unconscious, for the rest of the scene. The Sole's looking mighty fine in his calf-length black overcoat with his black turtleneck and matching pants, by the way. The evil ones really do tend to get the best clothes, don't they? "Bite this," sneers The Sole, slamming an FBOD right between Lizzie's implants. The FBOD tears an actual hole through her chest, which is something novel. Lizzie shrieks a bit before exploding.
Back in the non-vampy neck of the cavern, Piper, Phoebe, and the Dolt stop short when the cloud of "bats" squeals as one behind them. They turn to see each member of the colony drop from the ceiling in a fiery bomb to sizzle into individual grease spots on the floor. Piper quickly guesses some force has vanquished the queen, and screams Raige's name repeatedly.
Meanwhile, The Sole conjures an FBOD, which he thoughtfully bounces on his outstretched palm as he approaches Raige's prone form. After a moment, he crunches the FBOD between his hands and mutters, "In-laws." He blazes out just as Piper enters, followed presently by Phoebe and the Dolt. Raige staggers to her feet to let them know the new Source brought about the vampire Armageddon. However, she didn't get a chance to see his face. The gang frets a bit about why the new Source would vanquish Lizzie yet leave them alone before Piper says, "Screw it," and they all orb topside.
Manor sun porch, the following morning. Over coffee, Raige reluctantly admits to Piper that she initially met Sam Sam The Vampire Man at the Casa Del Sole. Piper one-ups Raige by copping to a few suspicions of her own regarding "a lot of little things" Cole's been doing lately. The "no orbing" rule. The "don't go after the vampires" argument. You get the picture. The two agree they should approach Phoebe with their concerns, but realize they must avoid hurting the nittering dimwit's fragile feelings in the process.
Over in the Casa Del Sole, the gentleman of the house answers the jangling cordless to find Raige on the other end. She asks for Phoebe. He lies that Phoebe's still sleeping, and offers to take a message. Back in the Manor kitchen, Raige stutters that she'll call back later in the day, and hangs up. Raige turns to gaze bleakly at Piper.
Phoebe emerges from the bedroom to join The Sole at the table. He basically orders her not to chase demons in the future. Of course, he couches this in language of concern for her well-being, but that's the gist of the conversation. Phoebe lacks the testicular fortitude to tell him to fuck off. He heads off to his office as the telephone rings again. Phoebe rises to take the call. It's the doctor from act one, going off in act three with the results of her blood workup. "I'm...I'm...what?" Phoebe gasps. Seventy-three-year-old retiree Bertha Nowicki, trapped beneath her bathtub since a tornado rolled over her split-level ranch on the outskirts of Kenosha an hour ago, screams, "YOU'RE PREGNANT." Phoebe drops dead. I'm sorry, that should read, "Were this a perfect world, this would be the point where Phoebe drops dead." Imperfect as our world is, Phoebe merely faints, dropping the receiver as she goes. The doctor bleats what Mrs. Nowicki screamed scant seconds ago as the camera slowly cranes up from Phoebe's body and we smash to black.