Long Live The Queen

D'Eartha attempts to reason with the unreasonable. "You are queen now. There's no reason to continue with this work at all." The Phoebeast's mood swings immediately from virago to kitten as she simpers that she likes her job. "It's a good distraction." D'Eartha calls her on this as she passes the tonic back to The Phoebeast. "Still struggling with your decision?" she asks as she settles onto the bed. The Phoebeast sips from the glass and blathers that she loves The Sole and being Queen of the Underworld is a kick and everything, it's just that..."Your sisters," D'Eartha finishes for her. The Phoebeast grimaces again at the taste of the tonic and babbles about how Piper and Raige are "stubborn" and don't "respect [her] decision." D'Eartha explains, with far more patience than I could ever muster in the situation, that "it's not in the nature of good to compromise." Piper and Raige will never accept The Phoebeast's decision, and the sooner The Phoebeast accepts this, the happier she'll be. Whoa. Back up there, D'Eartha. It's "not in the nature of good to compromise"? The hell? What crack-addled backwoods evangelical snake handler did you lift that sentiment from? Don't the Glamorous Ladies compromise about one damn thing or another every freaking week? Whatever. My head will explode if I try to make sense of that crap, so let's keep moving, shall we?

The Phoebeast takes a moment to look downcast at the idea of abandoning her sisters, then flares into a rage when the Craptin in the parlor increases in volume. D'Eartha rises with the now-empty glass and, in an attempt to placate the furious Phoebeast, explains that The Sole has much work to do if he is ever to mend the various rifts that erupted in the Underworld when the last Source was vanquished. The Phoebeast couldn't care less. As far as she's concerned, The Sole is working too damn much, and she refuses to have him continue to ignore her needs in favor of running his little kingdom. She snottily dismisses D'Eartha. D'Eartha pauses to remind The Phoebeast to drink the remaining glass of tonic in the morning, then flares out with an unnecessarily obsequious nod of her head. D'Eartha, sweetheart. Phoebe should be bowing to you. The Phoebeast glowers, then rises from her bed in a snit. She barrels out into the parlor, interrupting whatever Craptin game The Sole is playing with his minions. Just in time, too, by the looks of things. One of the minions is on his knees before The Sole, and The Sole has a firm grip on the back of the minion's head. I should probably add that they've hired some pretty damn fine tertiary demonic ass this week, and it's about time. Where were all these boys when we had to suffer through the likes of Andras and Eames and Vornack and Tarquin? The Phoebeast orders her husband to bed, as it's after midnight. The minion closest to The Phoebeast assures her that they've almost completed the ceremony. "Almost doesn't work" for The Phoebeast, so she opens her palm and directs a jet of fire his way, flaming his ass right on out of the penthouse. Another minion -- this one with flashing dark eyes, pouty lips, dangerous eyebrows, and criminal cheekbones -- wheels around to confront her. The Phoebeast flings out her other hand, and another fine piece of demonic ass fries its way to Hell. The minion kneeling before The Sole rises to squiggle out, followed by the remaining tertiary dark demonic forces. The Sole sighs, "I thought we talked about this." "Sorry," The Phoebeast doofs, promo-style. "Hormones." Credits.

Alley. Raige gives the frozen Greg the once-over, totally checking out his cotton-clad ass, as Piper wails, "How could you just let him go?" The Phoebeast splutters that "things are not as black-and-white as they used to be," and that she can't off her husband's minions as she once did in the past. "Killing Mallick would have been a huge betrayal" of The Sole on her part, she explains. "'Mallick'?" inquires Piper with an icy arch of a deadly eyebrow. "You're on a first-name basis with the demons?" The Phoebeast touches her temples in frustration as the Dolt notes that she could have stopped Scorchy on her own. Why did she enlist the aid of the Manor Three? "Because I missed you guys, okay?" she blurts. "Is that so wrong? I missed you." Piper's steely resolve softens a bit, and Raige allows the slightest trace of a smile to flicker across her lips. The Dolt, however, lays into The Phoebeast with the whole "you can't have it both ways" argument. "Why not?" Phoebe demands. "Just because it's different, doesn't mean it can't work!" Piper closes ranks with the Dolt, and after a bit more arguing, Raige does the same. While they managed to save Greg's fine cotton-clad ass from Scorchy's evil FBOD this time around, Scorchy is certain to return to complete his assignment. The Phoebeast dismisses their concerns, claiming that Mallick would never come back once she's ordered otherwise. "That's what [demons] do," Piper groans with a great sweeping of her arms. "They snarl, and they come back." Raige adds that because of the non-vanquish, she and Piper will have to continue protecting Greg's fine cotton-clad ass, rather than focusing their attention on saving Phoebe's soul. "You think I need saving?" Phoebe pouts defensively. Piper rolls her eyes and asks Phoebe if she's for real. "That baby inside you," she asserts, "has corrupted you more than you think." She finally lays it on the line: Phoebe cannot return to the Manor, nor enjoy the life she shares with her sisters, as long as she remains married to The Sole. The Phoebeast is outraged that Piper would demand she choose between her husband and her sisters. Had the Dolt any stones to speak of, this is where he would beat Phoebe over the head with a metal trash can lid. Instead, he mildly insists that she choose a side in the battle between good and evil once and for all. Phoebe backs down, examines the grime beneath her feet, and finally mutters, "I'm sorry you feel that way." Shooting daggers at Piper with her eyes, she blazes out.

Piper shakes her head around and pushes her satchel of vials into Raige's hand. "I can't do this," she insists, and stomps out of the alley. "What about Greg?" Raige bleats. Piper waves her hand around over her shoulder to unfreeze him and disappears. "Not again!" Greg whines when he spots the empty bike chain hanging from the standpipe. He turns and starts when he sees Raige and the Dolt hovering behind him. They offer a couple of dopey grins, so he asks them if they saw anyone wandering around with his bike. Instead of smacking him upside the head for leaving his bike in a freaking alley and still expecting it to be there when he returned, Raige is all, "No, but I got something you can ride right here, baby. Rrrwow." Okay, not so much. She just shrugs her shoulders helplessly. Greg mumbles something and stumbles off. "What now?" Raige asks the Dolt. "We follow him."

The Bay Mirror. The editor of The Phoebeast enters her office with the latest advice column, which Elise has rejected as unfit for publication. You'd think one of the Glamorous Ladies would have realized that Elise is really their Aunt Jackie. Though, you know, the gals haven't seen her since the beginning of the first season, so maybe they've forgotten what she looks like. Either that, or Aunt Jackie has gone deep undercover as an FBI mole for that impending storyline I've read so much about. Or maybe she's dead. What do I know? I didn't watch the first season. In any event, The Phoebeast takes umbrage at her boss's editorial decision, and prepares to torch her with a gout of flame from her palm. I suppose I should make it very clear at this point that I respect and admire each and every one of Sars's editorial decisions, and would never be so rude as to immolate her based on her suggested corrections. Then again, I'm not a simpering, pampered, blithering, traitorous, furry-armed fuckwit with a monstrous sense of entitlement and a rotten hairstyle, so perhaps that clarification was unnecessary. ["But I appreciate the thought regardless." -- Sars] The Sole pops into Phoebe's doorway just in time to prevent her from scorching Elise's competent ass. "You know," he says after Elise has left the room, "if you want to kill your boss, we have people who can do that." Incidentally, those of you who enjoy collecting Charmed trivia should note that Phoebe uses her maiden name for her byline, as evinced by the name on her door. The Sole shuts said door to suggest that Phoebe resign from the newspaper, then segues into expressing displeasure with her actions that afternoon in the alleyway. Long story short, he basically batters her with the same argument we heard earlier about choosing one side or the other and abiding by that choice. The Phoebeast basically delivers the same counter-argument as earlier, even going so far as to snark about The Sole's "rigid" nature as she did with Piper in the Manor parlor. "This is not a game," he tells her. "You walked through a one-way door. If you try to turn around now, they will destroy us." "My sisters?" she asks dully. "The Underworld," he corrects. "If they unite against us, I promise we will pray for death." The Phoebeast covers her eyes with her hands and apologizes. After a bit more of this, she takes his hand, and the two blaze out of the office together.

P3. The Dolt orbs in to find Piper making sweet, sweet love to a product-placed bottle of Jack Daniels. She wearily waves off her husband and his gooey pep chat. She feels she's failed her family, you see, and she'd like to indulge herself in a little bourbon-fueled bender in peace, thank you very much. "[Raige] could see that Cole clearly had turned evil," she admits, pouring out another shot. "And she tried to tell me over and over and over and over and over." "I didn't see that he was evil, Piper," notes the Dolt. "Yeah, but you're a fucking moron," she mutters, slugging back some Jack. Her eyes get a bit damp as she carries on about Phoebe being her baby sister and how she feels she led Phoebe into a demonic slaughterhouse or something. Whatever. All you need to know is that Holly Marie Combs plays drunk as well as she plays frightened, joyful, shrill, self-defeating, disinterested, playful, irritated, pleased, snide, sarcastic, wicked, wise, mortally wounded, and dead. The Dolt takes the bottle away from her while delivering a heroically tedious dissertation on how wonderful she is. She freezes his worthless ass and snatches the bottle out of his hand. She snorts back another shot, falling backwards off her stool as she does so. Piper realizes she likes the floor much more than she thought she would, and settles in for the duration.

Bizarre cut to an overhead shot of Raige adding a raw egg to some tomato juice in a blender over in the Manor kitchen. Piper's zonked out on the kitchen table with the remains of three other varieties of Raige's hangover cures before her. Piper apologizes for sucking down a bottle of Jack through a straw. "It's one thing when your sister has a husband that you can't stand," she explains. "It's another when he is The Source Of All Evil." I'd comment, but I know my parents would kill me if they ever saw my true feelings about our various in-laws in print. All I can say is Piper, honey, I feel your pain. And so do Mom and Dad. Raige decides that Piper's recovered to the point where she can reach a decision on Raige's proposed plan of action. They still have the Source vanquish and The Mystical Crystals Of Demonic Entrapment from the last time they tangled with the ruler of Hell. Also, the "good in Phoebe is fighting to the surface," as was proved earlier through her actions regarding their innocent. Why don't they just orb over to the Casa and blow up The Sole? Because Phoebe still would never allow them to vanquish her husband, Piper replies. Raige believes Phoebe might, especially if The Sole tries to off Piper and Raige first. Raige is so convinced Phoebe's good side will prevail -- especially if her sisters are in danger -- that she's willing to bet her life on it. Piper pauses thoughtfully, then notes that Raige has come a long way from the orphaned only child they met less than a year ago. Raige vows never to return to that depressing life, and hauls Piper to her feet.

As they emerge from the kitchen into the hallway, The Phoebeast slumps towards them from the front door. "[The Sole] is going to kill Greg Conroy," she announces, "and I can't let that happen." Piper quietly asks what Phoebe proposes they do. Phoebe mumbles that she supposes they'll have to vanquish The Sole. "I knew it!" Raige enthuses, then quickly regains control of herself before her inappropriate outbursts get her into trouble with her flamethrowing sister. Which is why you will never hear a single complaint about my brother-in-law from me. Nope. Never. God knows what military ordnance those Pentecostal survivalist freaks keep in that double-wide of theirs down in Tennessee. At Piper's prompting, Phoebe suggests that the Dolt orb back to the Manor with Greg to lure The Sole into the house. Once The Sole arrives, the Dolt and Greg should orb back out, and the gals will then be free to kill her husband. Raige darts up to the attic to retrieve The Mystical Crystals. Once she and Phoebe are alone, Piper begins to offer her regrets. Phoebe puts a stop to it. "I can't get emotional about this now, Piper," she mutters listlessly. "If I do, I won't be able to go through with it." Piper averts her eyes and bites her lip. Raige and that damn satin cravat of hers jiggle down the stairs with The Mystical Crysticals in their decorative box. Piper calls for the Dolt, who orbs into the front hallway with Greg. Greg shoots a nervous glance over at the Feebs, who bleakly nods her head in his direction before turning back to her sisters. "How long 'til you think [The Sole] gets here?" Raige asks.

Phoebe morphs up into The Sole and smirks, "Sooner than you think." He flings an FBOD at Greg, who dissolves instantly in a haze of flame and smoke and teeny tiny bits of probation officer. The Sole, with a wicked gleam in his eye, blazes out of the Manor. Raige and Piper gasp in horror before we cut away to commercial.

Okay: That there? Kicked ass. Granted, my expectations may have been beaten down into the dirt with all the crap that came flying out of my television from this show over the last season, but damn. That was almost as good as the haiku.

Anyway, back from the break, The Sole blazes into the penthouse to find the one true Phoebeast scratching away on a piece of stationery. I probably should make it clear that The Phoebeast is using a pen, and not just clawing away at the paper with her paw, right? A glass of D'Eartha's purely evil urine rests on the table nearby. The Feeble One turns halfway in her chair and asks The Sole if he knew what D'Eartha was giving her to drink. He evades the question by peering over her shoulder to inspect the paper beneath her hand. It's a "Dear Sole" letter, and he wonders aloud if she's planning on running away. She reluctantly admits that she's penned two letters, one to him, the other to her sisters. She hasn't quite decided which one to send. She repeats her question about the tonic. The Sole did indeed know of D'Eartha's foul plan to fill his wife with purely evil urine. Phoebe's -- dare I say it? -- pissed. The Sole wanders away from her towards the fireplace, blathering on and on about the coronation and choosing sides and knowing what you're getting into before you get into it and wah, but good God does he look good doing it. His black jacket is padded out a bit at the shoulders to accentuate their breadth, then tapers in as it moves down towards his waist, where its line joins perfectly with the line of his black pants. The resulting effect turns him into this hulking, brooding presence that seems to rise up from nothing into the air. If you watch Samurai Jack, he's like a three-dimensional human Aku hovering in the middle of the living room. Or maybe I'm just still buzzing on the high from the end of the last scene.

Anyway, The Phoebeast and The Sole snipe at each other about the nature of good and evil for far too long. She feels betrayed and conflicted and confused. He tells her that Piper and Raige will die if Phoebe doesn't partake of D'Eartha's purely evil urine. Phoebe finally gives in and downs the tonic in one gulp. He pulls her into an embrace, whispering of his love for her in her ear. Then he off-handedly mentions the whole "Greg is now probationary Baco Bits" thing. Phoebe pushes away, shuddering that if he killed the innocent, then Piper and Raige will head to the penthouse to kill him. Yes, Phoebe. Which is why I don't understand why you two are still living in the same damn city as your sisters. I realize The Sole Of All Evil and His Queen might have a few problems getting past a New York City co-op board, what with the smoke from all that hellfire and brimstone wafting through the ventilation system and everything, but couldn't you have at least considered moving to the opposite coast? Boston? Miami? Baltimore? Hell, if I were you, I'd have been in Asia weeks ago. Anyway, The Sole picks up on Phoebe's fears regarding her sisters and leads, "Phoebe, if it comes down to them or us..." "Oh, God," Phoebe splutters with her hand at her mouth, and she dives through the bathroom door. In the faint bluish light creeping in from the city sky outside the bathroom's windows, Phoebe drapes herself over the toilet and vomits up D'Eartha's purely evil urine into the bowl. The Sole raps at the locked door, repeatedly calling her name. Phoebe collapses over the sink to splash handfuls of water onto her face. Panting, she lifts herself up to stare at her garish reflection in the mirror.

Out in the living room, The Sole backs away from the bathroom door as Piper, Raige, and the Dolt orb in. The Sole crosses in front of each of them, silently daring them to make the first move. Raige, seething, spits, "You evil son of a bitch!" Piper flings out her hands, and The Sole dissolves into a whirling, buzzing cloud of Sole bits. Before he can reconstitute himself, Raige kneels to place The Mystical Crysticals in their proper places on the floor. Piper screams, "Phoebe! Get out here and help us, dammit!" Um, how'd she know Phoebe was in the can? Never mind. The Sole bits coalesce, and he backhands Raige across the room into the wall above the mantelpiece. She drops unconscious to the carpet as the remaining Mystical Crystical rolls across the floor from her limp hand. "Don't make me kill you," breathes The Sole. Piper blows him up again as the Dolt applies the tingly touch to Raige's neck. The Sole bits whiz around in the air while Piper screams once more for Phoebe. Huddled behind the door, Phoebe whimpers, "Forgive me," before emerging from the bathroom. The Sole coalesces once more as Piper and the Dolt help Raige to her feet. The Sole conjures an FBOD into his hand. Phoebe retrieves the final Mystical Crystical from the floor and crosses with it to her husband's side. He attempts to apologize with, "I'm sorry -- it's for the best." "I know it is," Phoebe replies, and shoves her tongue into his mouth. The Dolt is a-feared. Shut up, Dolt. Phoebe draws away from The Sole, whispers, "I'm sorry, too," and places the final Mystical Crystical in position on the terrazzo at his feet.

Oh, like you really thought she'd let him kill them. Please.

The Mystical Crysticals Of Demonic Entrapment flare up, as is their wont. Piper chants, "Prudence, Penelope, Patricia, Melinda." Flames lick at The Sole's expensive loafers. Phoebe continues, choking back sobs, "Astrid, Helena, Laura, and Grace." The Sole's getting mighty warm in there as the flames leap up to his chest. "I'll always love you," he sweats. Raige chimes in with, "Halliwell witches, stand strong beside us." Phoebe begins the final line herself, but is quickly joined by Piper and Raige: "Vanquish this evil from time and space." The Sole explodes. The force of the blast shatters the glass in the French doors, then blows the doors themselves outwards off their hinges. The Dolt is sad. Shut up, Dolt. Phoebe brushes hair from her face, gasps, and wanders over to the little pile of Cole ash alone.

Manor. An ovary who thinks she's Joni Mitchell but is sorely, sadly mistaken warbles something unintelligible about a tiny dancer that has nothing to do with holding said dancer closer. I think. Piper gazes up the stairs from the hallway below. The Dolt approacheth. "Why don't you go up and see her?" he asks. Piper, fretful in a low-key sort of way, doesn't know what to say. Raige walks in through the front door and sets her purse on the much-abused marble-topped entry table. "How's she doing?" Raige asks. "I don't know," Piper lames. "She hasn't come down yet." "How long you been standing there?" counters Raige, raising her eyebrows slightly. Piper concedes the point. The gals head up the stairs. Piper makes it to the landing before spinning around and nervously blurting, "What if she wants to be alone?" "She's going to be alone a lot," Raige notes gently. "Maybe right now she needs us." Piper and Raige lock eyes for a moment. Piper, perhaps realizing Raige could teach even Piper herself a thing or two about grief, agrees with a sharp "Right." The two disappear upstairs. Nice little scene there, with the glaring exception of the Dolt, who even now broods at the foot of the stairs, all silent pillar of manly flannel strength in this, their time of need. Shut up, Dolt.

Bimbo Boudoir. Piper and Raige slip quietly through the door. Phoebe lies sobbing on her bed, her face turned towards the window. Piper wordlessly eases herself onto the bed behind Phoebe, wrapping her arms around her from behind. Raige hesitates, then lies down in front of Phoebe, taking Phoebe's hand in her own and drawing Phoebe's arm around her waist. Piper strokes Phoebe's hair and kisses her head. Raige remains silent. Phoebe blows snot all over the back of Raige's head as the shot shifts to an overhead of the three women embracing and we fade to black.

Damn. If the first forty-five minutes had been as good as the last fifteen, this might have merited an A.

week: References to movies galore as Phoebe's demon spawn goes all Rosemary's Baby on the Glamorous Ladies' collective ass, with a little bit of The Omen, The Bad Seed, and The Village Of The Damned thrown in to spice things up. Have fun.