Wacky prenatal hijinks? Wacky prenatal hijinks? I got nothing, people. Nothing but weary contempt and a mild, nagging sense of irritation. The well of snark -- she is dry, my friends. This is going to hurt.
And yet, here we go nevertheless. The evening starts by slamming my head into a focus-pull down a white corridor to Phoebe, riding a gurney and accompanied by two EMTs. "This can't be happening!" she pants, and she's right, because it's a dream sequence. How do I know this? It's supposed to be an emergency room, yet everyone is wearing snowy-white clothing, and it looks like the set crew partitioned off a section of an underground parking garage with a couple of whitewashed flats for this scene. The EMT who gets to talk tells a nearby doctor that Phoebe's "five centimeters dilated" with "a possible prolapsed cord." "Possible"? Gee, I seem to remember Carol Hathaway's twins teaching me that a "prolapsed cord" occurs when the umbilicus pops out before the baby, leading to all sorts of fun brain damage and whatnot for the infant, as its only source of oxygen is cut off for several vital minutes during the delivery. So, you know, Mr. Chatty EMT there should have his hand jammed up Phoebe's privates to shove the cord back in, just like poor Abby had to do on what I'm sure was her worst Thanksgiving ever. No wonder she's a boozehound. The doctor orders "a crash C-section," despite Phoebe's protests that she's only two months pregnant. Phoebe bellows for her sisters as the shot cuts to the interior of an operating theater. Like I said, the whole thing looks like a hastily-converted parking garage, so I'm betting this "operating theater" normally houses Brad Kern's Humvee. Phoebe asks again for Piper and Raige as a soothing nurse tells her there's not enough time. The hospital gowns are blinding. The doctor slices Phoebe open as the soothing nurse coos, "There's nothing to be afraid of." "I'm afraid of what's inside of me," Phoebe gasps. She prays for the Spawn of Sole to be "normal" as the doctor extracts the infant from her gaping uterus. Well, I'm assuming it's gaping. The effects budget apparently couldn't bear the cost of a prosthetic abdomen for Alyssa Milano. Or fake blood, for that matter. Phoebe spies the shadowy outline of the Spawn through the abnormally clean white sheet they've stretched across her body. An aide snips the umbilical cord as the doctor asks Phoebe if she'd like to see her son. He hoists a four-month-old child up with both of his hands. No slimy gore. No mucus plugging his nostrils. Nothing. The kid in fact seems to be staring off-camera at a stuffed animal the AD is wiggling around in the air. Phoebe gasps that the child is beautiful. The doctor passes the wee one over to the aide, who has removed her mask and cap. DUN! It's D'Eartha, sans make-up and dangly earrings. Phoebe howls, "It's the Seer! Don't let her take my baby! Don't let her take my baby!" D'Eartha smiles coyly and turns away with the swaddled brat. Phoebe shrieks, drops her head backwards in agony, and...
...snaps awake in her own bed. Sweaty and panting, she whips her head around, clutching at her stomach. She calms down a bit, swallowing back great gasps of air as we head into the opening credits.
Back from the break, they waste a good minute of airtime with an opening travelogue that seems to consist of every single piece of daytime footage they've ever filmed of various San Francisco locations, while some alt-rock crapmeister whines, "A-yi-ee-i-ee-i-ee-i-ee-i-ee-i" for what seems like forty-seven years. We finally end up at the Manor, with Raige's green Volkswagen parked in the street. Up in the kitchen, the Dolt peruses the morning paper while Raige details a disastrous date she had the evening. Piper cracks about preferring "quiet men because they make great listeners," which of course results in the Dolt popping his head from behind the paper with, "What, honey?" And that was the one thousand three hundred and ninety-sixth time they've made that joke on this show. This season. Phoebe straggles into the kitchen, clutching her dressing gown shut with both hands, and flops into a chair at Piper's side to moan about her morning sickness. She then exposits that "the nightmare came back." Phoebe's certain D'Eartha has nasty designs on the Phoetus, and is waiting for the moment D'Eartha summons her to Hell with no warning in order to do something dastardly. With all that out of the way, the four then remind everyone that Phoebe's husband is dead. Phoebe natters something about staying strong for her growing Spawn. Raige stands to check the Book of Shadows for a spell that can protect Phoebe from D'Eartha's wicked ways. When Piper reminds Raige that she's already late for "work" at THE BLACK HOLE OF SOCIAL SERVICES, Raige replies that "work" can wait. "Phoebe doesn't need to be stressful," Raige awkwardly explains. I think she was meant to say "stressed out," and Rose McGowan made a little Freudian slip that the director chose to retain. Raige exits, flashing a vast expanse of naked back at the camera so that we all know she's not wearing a bra.
Phoebe glances at Piper, then leaps up from the table to chase Raige into the hallway. Once there, she invites Raige to say "I told you so." You know, because for months now, Raige has been the Manor Cassandra, spraying righteous, correct, and ignored invective into the air regarding The Sole. Raige insists that the sort of gloating in which she's now invited to indulge is "not [her] style." Phoebe persists, apologizing for her callousness and willful disregard of Raige and her suspicions. Raige thanks Phoebe for the gesture, but deems the apology unnecessary. "Everything is totally fine," she assures Phoebe before turning to dart up the stairs. Phoebe heaves a guilty sigh as she watches Raige go.
As she heads back into the kitchen, Phoebe grips her head and groans. She's been getting "hot flashes" whenever she moves too quickly. Piper rightly notes that hot flashes are not a typical ailment during pregnancy, and suggests Phoebe take the appointment Piper had made for herself that day with her gynecologist. Apparently, Piper and the Dolt are checking Piper's "fertility," because they're still trying to bang out a brat of their own. Phoebe protests that she can't head to a regular gynecologist when she's carrying "a demonically-challenged baby." Who knows what effect D'Eartha's purely evil urine had on the Phoetus? Piper decides to accompany Phoebe in order to freeze things if the visit gets dicey. Phoebe's none too happy about this, but Piper insists. "Into the stirrups for you," she chirps as she punches a number into the cordless. "Ugh," pouts Phoebe. Indeed.
Hell, Coronation Central. Good God, they're going to beat this set until it bleeds, aren't they? A variety of dark demonic forces encircles the pentagram on the floor, chanting Craptin. Upon the pentagram itself stands Prior Pock, clad in one of those dark peach satin and burnt-orange velour Bob Mackie creations from a couple of episodes ago. "Dane, son of Goath," Prior Pock intones, "may the world's evil flow through your soul tonight and grant you eternal darkness." Aw. That's darling. Hallmark should use it to launch a new line of greeting cards for those moments when you want to spread a little Satanic joy. Dane, who had been kneeling before the Grimoire's podium during this, rises to his feet as Prior Pock crosses to open the book. "Are you prepared to take the power and position of The Source before these leaders of the Underworld?" Pock asks of Dane. "I am," Dane replies. Prior Pock eases The Grimoire open, presumably to the Votum Sanguinis. D'Eartha rays in at that moment, demanding that the assembled halt the coronation immediately. She's had another of her visions -- this one revealing The Sole's heir taking immediate control of the Underworld. Dane scoffs that an unborn infant "in the belly of a witch" cannot lead Hell's minions. Prior Pock agrees that Hell can't wait for the Spawn's birth, much less remain leaderless while the Spawn takes his sweet time reaching adulthood. D'Eartha icily insists that with her assistance, the Phoetus can take charge that very day. Dane protests mightily at this usurpation of his claim to the throne of Hell. Prior Pock reminds him that, despite "The Council's" vote in Dane's favor, Dane has "no direct lineage to The Source, by blood or by magic." Prior Pock tells D'Eartha that she has "until tonight to bring [The Council] The Source's heir, or the throne belongs to Dane." Dane tries to out-sneer D'Eartha, and fails miserably.
And we cut right to the office of your friendly neighborhood gynecologist for the first round of those wacky prenatal hijinks that leave me cold and dead inside. Gyno-Man, Gyno-Man, doing the things a gyno can, informs Phoebe that her hormone levels are dangerously elevated for a woman who's only eight weeks pregnant, and chides her for not coming in for an exam sooner. Phoebe doofs that she was in the care of "a Seer," which Piper covers as being "a New-Agey kind of doctor." Gyno-Man snorts derisively, as well he should, and smears some gel on Phoebe's abdomen for an ultrasound. The gel is cold, so naturally Phoebe's head catches fire. No, seriously -- a crown of flame erupts from her head to lick at the air. As several have noted on the forums, the Spawn of Sole must hate Phoebe's new hairstyle as much as everyone in the audience does. Fortunately for Phoebe's sake, the flames vanish before Gyno-Man sees them and freaks right the hell out of his office. He slides the ultrasound, um, wand-thingy around Phoebe's stomach, and the ronking "wah-wah" noises on the monitor eventually reveal a blurry squiggle that's supposed to be the Phoetus. The Phoetus doesn't like having his photo taken, and so zaps Gyno-Man with a bolt of electricity. Gyno-Man flies backwards to introduce his ass to the wall before slumping to the floor. Piper twitters and hoots as she helps Gyno-Man to his feet. "What happened?" he stammers. "That's a good question," Piper replies, freezing Gyno-Man with a flick of her wrist. "What happened?" she clenches as she advances on the Feebs. "Did your baby just electrocute the nice doctor man?" she spits. "Yeah," Phoebe reluctantly confirms with an infantile pout that makes me want to reach into the television to gouge the teeth from her gums with my fingernails. "Unborn babies don't perform magic tricks in the first trimester!" Piper wails. Phoebe grimaces, "What's going on?" Piper hasn't a clue, but orders Phoebe not to panic. "We'll wrap up here," she vows, "and then we'll go home and panic." She grips Phoebe's hand, and the two gape nervously at the still-frozen Gyno-Man.
Manor attic. Raige and the Dolt peruse D'Eartha's entry in the Book of Shadows. You'd think they'd have done this months ago, like, oh, when D'Eartha supposedly ruined Phoebe's wedding and all, but whatever. The entry doesn't really tell us anything we haven't already heard: D'Eartha's "an upper-level demon who has been around for thousands of years," and "because she has the power to see the future, she is a close adviser to The Source Of All Evil." She's "served multiple Sources," choosing to support the "ultimate power," rather than take that ultimate power for herself. Finally, D'Eartha's "immune to spells and tonics," but as The Sole himself noted, she "only kills when she has to." Phoebe and Piper enter at this moment with their tale of gynecological woe. Raige brightly supposes that demonic offspring are "what you get when you breed with The Source Of All Evil." "Can we not say 'breed'?" Phoebe snits. "I'm not a horse." Raige is all, "Whatever you want, you stroppy cow," as Phoebe blithers on about The Sole being only half-evil and how she's all good, so her baby must have a lot of good in it. Piper quietly asks, "What if there's not?" Phoebe wades into denial, insisting that her love for the brat will save him. Because that strategy worked so well with your dead husband. Moron.
Raige changes the subject to note that they should be able to create a vanquishing potion for D'Eartha, much as they did for upper-level demonic forces like the Bi Kraps and the Garthalike. Piper tuts they'll need a difficult-to-acquire "tissue sample" for such a potion. Phoebe reveals that The Sole stored extra bottles of D'Eartha's purely evil urine -- which coincidentally contained some of D'Eartha's blood, like, that's almost as vile as it is convenient -- in the wall safe at the Casa. There's a brief bit of fretting over Phoebe's ability to return to the penthouse so soon after she vanquished her husband; then the gals plus the Dolt head towards the attic door. Phoebe thanks Raige once again for continuing to assist her, despite Phoebe's earlier behavior. Raige again tells Phoebe not to worry about it, so Phoebe throws Raige out of the attic window. No, seriously. Screaming, "Bitch!" and spinning around on her heels, Phoebe hurls Raige through the attic window. Outside, Detective Darryl strolls up the front walk just in time for a hail of shattered stained glass to slice open his befuddled head. He looks skyward to spot Raige flailing her way through the air to the cement. At the last moment, Raige orbs out, leaving Darryl to drop to his knees, clawing at the shards embedded in his eyes as he screams in agony. Or not. Darryl got really lucky, I guess.
Meanwhile, Raige orbs back into the attic as Piper shrieks. "What the hell was that for?" Raige demands. Phoebe lamely explains that the Spawn within took momentary control of her body to pitch Raige headfirst out the window. "But why me?" Raige bleats. "I have nothing against that little fu...fetus." Yes. Raige almost called the Spawn of Sole a little fucker. Join me in rolling around on the floor in laughter, won't you? Or, more accurately, join me in rolling the eyes right out of my fucking skull as my brain turns into a runny oatmeal that dribbles from my ear to puddle onto my keyboard. "Kids at this age," Phoebe smarms. "They don't know any better." Raige smacks the taste right out of Phoebe's smug little mouth with an uppercut to the jaw as the Dolt orbs out to consult the ever-useless Elders on the Phoetus. Well, the Dolt orbs out, at any rate. Piper's certain that D'Eartha is involved somehow, and the three head out of the attic.
As they clomp down the stairs, Darryl greets them with, "What was that out there?" Raige nonchalantly informs him of the Phoetus's attempt on her life. He shrugs this nonsense off and gets right to business, asking them if anyone in the Manor has "learned the magic of the telephone." He's left four unanswered messages for them in the last week. The Sole "worked at a high-profile law firm," and the partners are starting to wonder where the hell he is. Right-o. They're just wondering now, because they wouldn't have wondered back when he was blowing off work to interview whores, chat with gay vampires, redecorate the apartment, or tryst with scorching demonic underlings. Gotcha. The Glamorous Ladies are about as interested in Darryl's concerns as I am in this episode. However, they are headed to the penthouse, which conveniently enough is the exact place Darryl "need[s them] to take care of this business." The gals blithely don jackets as Darryl stumbles out of the Manor after them.
Casa Del Sole. The camera pans up from the lonely pile of Cole ash on the terrazzo as Darryl emerges from the elevator with the ladies. He explains that they need to rearrange the apartment so it "looks like Cole left in a hurry." He's made an appointment for Phoebe that afternoon with the missing persons bureau. If she doesn't report Cole missing before his colleagues at the firm do, she'll become the primary suspect in his disappearance. Darryl's concerned that the police might link the Ps to Cole's death, and this plot bored me to tears the first time they fumbled their way through it. And that iteration featured Ruth Bader Ginsburg, The Angel Of Death, and coffee-flavored bat shit. This time around? Nothing quite so entertaining. The gals glumly agree to Darryl's plan. The detective takes in the pile of ash, the surrounding scorch mark on the floor, and the blown-out French doors. Darryl displays those mad policing skills of his when he duly notes, "This place looks like a crime scene." Raige steps up to the plate to recite her favorite all-purpose spell:
Let the Object of Objection
Become but a Dream
As I cause the Seen
To be Unseen.
Twinkly fairy lights scour the scorch mark from the floor, sweep up the lonely Cole ash and the shattered glass, and restore the French doors. "Thanks," Phoebe murmurs. Raige steps to her side, quietly wishing that she could make Phoebe's pain vanish just as easily. Aw. "So do I," Phoebe notes before adding, "You murdering witch!" Phoebe backhands Raige with her fist. Raige snipers to the carpet. "The baby made me do it!" Feebs cringes against Darryl's chest, promo-style. There are so many different ways I want to hurt Phoebe at this moment that I can't pick just one to describe for you. What overpaid, gibbering, idiot hack thought this would be amusing and entertaining, and could we please arrange to have that person shot in the head? You know, hire a professional so this sort of nausea-inducing garbage never appears on television again? I'll donate five bucks to the cause. Who's with me? Jesus. No, besides Him. Anyone? Anyway, Piper scoops Raige up from the floor and orders the party to split up. Phoebe and Darryl will take care of Cole's belongings while Piper and Raige find the remaining bottles of D'Eartha's purely evil urine. Phoebe leads the bewildered Darryl towards the boudoir as Darryl wonders, "Where is this baby everyone keeps talking about? Is it an invisible baby? Am I gonna step on it?" No, but we really want you to, so here's what you do, D: Take the Feebs into the bedroom, thwack her over the head with a lamp so she sprawls out onto the floor unconscious, and then jump up and down on her goddamned pelvis. Think you can handle that, sweetie? Thanks.
Raige rages, "Am I the only one worried about that thing that's growing inside of her?" Piper tells her to cram it; they have to find the remaining bottles of tonic. Anyone want to bet that they'll actually find the tonic in the wall safe? No? What's that you say? D'Eartha would certainly have returned to the Casa after The Sole had been vanquished to remove any demonic playthings she might have left behind? Because D'Eartha is nothing if not a competent villain? I couldn't agree with you more. However, Kern & Ko. believe that we in the audience are mildly-retarded eleven-year-olds who have dropped far too many tabs of Ecstasy with our midlife-crisis nightmare of an estranged white-trash father, so we have to endure a scene in which Piper and Raige find the wall safe, Raige orbs the safe's door into her hands, and the two express great disappointment when they discover said wall safe empty save for an envelope addressed to the Feebs. Piper instantly recognizes the generic block capitals as Cole's handwriting, and pockets the note to protect it from Raige's nosy, prying eyes.
Over in the bedroom, I'm not seeing any vigorous stomping of Phoebe's pelvis, so I am forced to assume that the little people in my television set are ignoring me again. Stupid little TV people. After stroking the monstrous white teddy bear The Sole bought her when she realized she was knocked up, Phoebe crosses to the bathroom door. She opens it, and is immediately yanked head-first through a blazing white portal into The Chamber Of D'Eartha down in Hell. Darryl latches onto her ankles while screaming for Piper's assistance. Meanwhile, D'Eartha strides over to Phoebe, purring, "I've been waiting for you." Phoebe snarls at her to make like a tree. D'Eartha snarls right back, "I only want what is mine!" I don't like the sound of that. D'Eartha yanks mightily on Phoebe's arm. Back in the bedroom, Piper and Raige have joined Darryl's side in this tug-of-war over the contents of Phoebe's uterus. Would that the sides would rip Phoebe in two. No such luck. Phoebe snatches one of D'Eartha's dangly earrings, tearing it and the lobe to which it's attached from D'Eartha's head. D'Eartha roars in pain and releases Phoebe's arm. Phoebe shoots back into the bedroom, knocking everyone to the floor. She passes the earlobe to a visibly horrified Piper with a casual, "Here's your tissue sample." We cut to commercial before Piper hurls her breakfast directly into Phoebe's face.
Manor kitchen. Raige futzes at the center island with the vanquish ingredients as Piper prepares a little fruit plate for the Feebs. She suggests that Raige remain in the kitchen, where she will not "provoke" the Phoetus. Raige bitches about this for a little while, then shuts up and gets back to work.
Piper emerges into the dining room to find Phoebe pressing headphones against her stomach as a CD of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik spins around in a portable player. Phoebe's trying "to bring out [the Phoetus's] peaceful nature" with the music. Piper's aghast at her sister's abject stupidity. They natter about prenatal care as Phoebe picks a wedge of watermelon from the plate. It morphs into a slice of raw steak. Mmmm. Steak. Piper bats the meat out of Phoebe's hand right before Phoebe shoves it into her yammering maw. They actually make Holly Marie Combs deliver the line, "Maybe your baby would prefer to listen to Ozzy." Oh, Holly. How I weep bitter, bloody tears for you. Just one more episode, and you can put all of this bullshit behind you. For three months. Unless you piss off Alyssa, of course, and then it will be forever.
In orbeth the Dolt, with the non-stunning Elders-sent revelation that D'Eartha wants the Phoetus. Asswipe. Piper asserts that the time D'Eartha tries to attack, the Glamorous Ladies will be ready for her. She calls out to Raige, asking after the condition of the vanquishing potion. Raige pops in to note that it just needs to cool. Phoebe immediately bolts to her feet to unleash a gout of flame from her palm towards Raige's startled form. Raige jumps back, dumping the entire potion into the carpet. Bitchery ensues, and quite a lot of it, too. Piper orders Phoebe and Raige not to set foot in the same room until Phoebe can "find a way to control Chucky" in the Book of Shadows. Raige shrieks that it's not her fault, and that maybe the Phoetus is picking up on some residual animosity Phoebe harbors for Raige. Piper tells Raige to zip it and whip up another batch of the vanquish with the remaining section of earlobe. Phoebe, meanwhile, whines that she can't do BoS research because she's supposed to meet Darryl over at the missing persons bureau. Piper howls in disbelief that Phoebe would even consider leaving the Manor with the Phoetus acting up the way it is. Phoebe basically says, "Deal with it, bitch," and flounces out to the front door. Piper sends her husband after Phoebe to ensure that nothing too extreme happens while Phoebe's being interviewed, like the Dolt's meager level of assistance is any solution to their current problem. Piper shrills and snits some more before stomping up the stairs to check the Book of Shadows herself. You know, now would be a perfect time for Grams to materialize in the Manor and beat some sense into these women. Did Jennifer Rhodes join Kit the Cat in that great show-business retirement community in the sky while I wasn't paying attention?
Hell. D'Eartha rays into a long corridor lined with the shackled, tormented bodies of the damned. In other words, tonight's audience. D'Eartha breezes past our tortured, twisted shapes to enter an airy chamber, the center of which contains a large, cobwebbed cage. "I have an offer for you," D'Eartha tells the cage's occupant, who slumps in a heap of dust-coated fabric on the floor. The occupant lifts his head, and it's Lurch from The Addams Family movies. Lurch gazes at her for a beat, and then -- Lurch speaks! I don't think I ever heard Carel Struyken deliver much more than a grunt in anything I've ever seen him in, and it soon becomes clear just why that should be. He sounds like an anemic version of Ahnuld. Wait. That's not quite fair. Lurch has way better diction. Anyway, Lurch groans, "Nobody comes down to The Source's dungeon unless they are dead, damned, or desperate. Which one are you?" D'Eartha cops to the latter, claiming that she needs Lurch's power. Lurch is all, "I've got a power? No way!" The centuries he's spent locked in that cage have pretty much wiped out his memory. Oddly enough, those centuries don't seem to have affected his ability to rumba around said cage with the exposition. The Source -- though which particular incarnation of that demon is left unclear -- condemned Lurch to spend eternity alone in a cage "forged from unbreakable magic." "Nothing can escape it," Lurch elaborates for the benefit of all us tweaking retarded eleven-year-olds out here in TV land. Turns out that D'Eartha built the cage herself. She'll free Lurch if he agrees to "capture and contain a Charmed One" and "bring her to the Underworld" -- a task he, "a demon who has swallowed worlds," should not find difficult. Is he interested? Boy, howdy! Is he ever! He rises to his feet, and rises some more, then rises a little bit more after that before slurring, "Get me out!" Hee! Struyken is easily twice Debbi Morgan's size. She has to crane her neck all the way backwards to look him in the eye. She darkly reminds him she put him in that cage the first time around, and warns that if he betrays her, she won't hesitate to do it again. Lurch drools like Roman Polanski getting his hands on the latest edition of YM magazine.
The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. The Dolt escorts Phoebe into a waiting area as she baby-talks at the Phoetus, promising to "eat a huge tri-tip tonight" if the brat behaves himself. Darryl greets them, expositing that "Inspector Miles [is] trained to spot a liar, so [Phoebe should] just answer his questions as honestly as [she] can." This reeks already.
Inspector Miles quizzes Phoebe about Cole's disappearance. She claims that they had a fight a week ago over her sisters, and then Cole up and vanished, taking with him all of his clothing and personal belongings. Miles wonders if Cole ever became abusive. The Phoetus telekinetically drops a shelf of books onto Miles's head. Grant me the serenity not to put my foot through the TV screen. Phoebe whispers at her stomach to get a grip as Darryl and the Dolt help Miles retrieve the books from the floor. Phoebe then rises to advise the good inspector not to talk trash about her man in her presence. Miles mutters, "I'm sorry, but I have to call them like I see them. You turn up pregnant, and he takes off? Your husband fits the classic profile of a deadbeat dad." Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of shitty TV, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me. Miles bends over to pick up some more books. Phoebe's hand flames up of its own accord, ready to barbecue the inspector's shlubby ass. Darryl and the Dolt hiss. Phoebe turns her back on the men, spies a handy wastebasket, and flips the ball of flame into the trash. General mayhem follows. My God, my God. Why have you forsaken me? Bastard. The scene thankfully screeches to a long-overdue halt when the Phoetus starts kicking field goals in Phoebe's business. Phoebe exits with the Dolt.
Manor parlor. Piper gets some Very Bad News over the phone from Gyno-Man.
Manor kitchen. Piper wanders in, oblivious to Raige's chipper attempts at banter, and slides into a chair. At Raige's prompting, Piper notes that while she considered binding the Phoetus's powers, there's no way to do so without binding Phoebe's as well. And this is a terrible loss…how, exactly? The power of premonition really isn't all that, and something tells me they can do without Phoebe yodeling through the air for a few months as well. Never mind. It's all just a set-up so that Piper can deliver the bomb she received on the phone. As she suspected, her uterus is, indeed, broken. Too much scar tissue from numerous demonic blows to the abdomen have rendered Piper's insides a rocky place where the Dolt's seed can find no purchase. Piper quite naturally gets weepy about the whole thing, and mentions the child she met during her jaunt to the future. If I cared, I'd toss her own argument about what she saw in the future right back into her face. Raige commiserates for a while before the conversation is interrupted by the yowling of a Dolt in the front hall.
Piper and Raige race out of the kitchen to find the Dolt propping Phoebe up against his body in the hallway. He tells them Phoebe's "getting worse," and adds that all his attempts to heal her have failed. Phoebe shoves him away to claw at her head. The nimbus of flame erupts from her hair. Again. Heh. Hate the Phoebangs, honey, and your baby does, too. Nyeaah. Phoebe drops to the floor, groaning and gripping her stomach. Piper pushes Raige out of the room and orders the Dolt to fetch Phoebe some ice water or something. Action Dolt scampers off to the kitchen as Piper kneels behind Phoebe, rocking her in her arms and urging her to breathe through the pain. Lurch decides to flare into the hallway at this moment, and Raige calls out a warning. Piper attempts to blow him up, but nothing happens. The Dolt barrels back into the dining room, grabs a chair, and hurls it at Lurch's chest. The chair disappears into Lurch's body. Lurch turns to Phoebe and moans, "You can't run away from me. I'll always find you." He stretches a bony hand her way as Raige darts out from her hiding place. "Phoebe!" she shouts. "I'll orb you out of here!" Phoebe, of course, boots Raige in the stomach, sending her flying backwards into Lurch. Raige vanishes into his body, and he flares out of the Manor. Phoebe gasps for the fifteenth time in the last thirty-three minutes, "That was the baby. I couldn't control him." Shut it, git. Commercial.
Attic. Phoebe hugs herself on a divan as the Dolt orbs into the room to note that he "can't get a read on" Raige. Piper strolls in with some iced tea. "Anything on that demon?" she asks. Phoebe's found an entry in the Book for "The Tall Man." "Oral tradition tells of a giant whose body served as a portal to other dimensions," Piper reads. "Because he was imprisoned centuries ago, nobody knows what this demon's name is or if he even exists." Phoebe interjects that "it gets worse: 'There's no known vanquish for him. The Source was so threatened he condemned the giant to spend eternity in a cage.'" The Dolt deduces that D'Eartha sent Lurch to the Manor to abscond with Phoebe. Piper passes Phoebe a glass of tea "to cool [her] off." Phoebe raises the glass to her lips, but the demon inside apparently detests caffeine. Phoebe's hand jerks away from her body, flinging the glass to shatter on the floorboards. Piper is forced to admit that the tea contained a binding potion. So much for that solution. Phoebe arrives at the realization that she's carrying the new Source in her womb. What? Don't ask me. I haven't a clue. Choke back your disbelief and pray that this damn episode ends soon.
Hell. Raige wakes to find herself trapped in Lurch's cage. She's greeted by a fabulously poised D'Eartha and immediately snots, "So, what? You're into some kind of dominatrix thing now?" D'Eartha ignores the snide remark to note that Raige isn't the sister she was expecting, but that she'll do for now. Raige sneers and attempts to orb out of the cage. Because of the cage's built-in force field, her little cloud of orbs just bounces around a bit while D'Eartha titters gleefully. Raige rematerializes and rises to her feet. "So what was your plan?" she asks. "Trap Phoebe in this cage and fatten her up until she gives birth?" D'Eartha notes that not even she has the patience for such an endeavor. Raige will learn of D'Eartha's intentions as soon as Phoebe receives D'Eartha's message. D'Eartha steps away from the cage, and her eyes cloud over.
Up in the Manor, Phoebe gasps her way into a premonition of D'Eartha shooting some sort of death ray from her hands into the caged Raige. As she gives details of the vision to Piper and the Dolt, Lurch flares into the attic. "Come with me, or your sister will die," he tells her. Phoebe crosses to take his hand, determined to extract Raige from the mess Phoebe herself created. The Dolt places his body between them, insisting that it's all a trap set by the cunning D'Eartha to kill them all. Phoebe grips the Dolt's flannel shirt and flips him onto the divan. "That wasn't the baby," she warns. "That was me." Piper snatches up the vial of D'Eartha vanquish and dives for Lurch, intending to head to Hell in Phoebe's place and dust D'Eartha herself. Phoebe tosses open her hands, and the blue death ray from her premonition slams into Lurch, knocking him across the attic. Piper lands heavily the floor, crushing the vial beneath her body. Oh, that's going to help her scarred uterus along. Piper and the Dolt rise to urge Phoebe not to take advantage of the Phoetus's evil powers to rectify the situation. Phoebe, of course, ignores them. She raises her palm once more, and this time the blue death ray sizzles its way through Lurch's robes, setting him alight. Lurch whips his head back and forth in confusion and pain before vanishing in a veil of flame. "Phoebe," Piper breathes. "Nobody's ever been able to vanquish that demon. Do you realize what you just did?" Phoebe silently gazes at her smoking palm for a moment before her eyes flip shiny beetle-black. The Dolt holds Piper back as Phoebe blazes out of the attic.
Chamber Of D'Eartha. Phoebe blazes in and is welcomed warmly. "Come to me, my child," D'Eartha croons, though to be honest, I'm not sure if she's addressing Phoebe or the Phoetus. D'Eartha deliciously subverts scripture by murmuring, "Let the little children come to me, for the kingdom belongs to such as these," as she leads Phoebe into a circle of candles on the floor. Raige -- for some reason given the full glamour treatment there in her cage, what with the glossy lips and the full hair photographed through gauze and all -- pleads with Phoebe to regain control of her body. Phoebe, black eyes shining in the candlelight, kneels at the center of the circle as D'Eartha chants the following:
Give me strength and give me might
To steal a child in still of night.
Darkest forces, let it be.
Hear my plea -- bring life to me.
The Phoetus makes screechy Alien noises as it departs Phoebe's womb for D'Eartha's. "My baby!" Phoebe cries as the beetle black fades, and I have another Christina Crawford moment. "He was never yours," D'Eartha smiles, "or Cole's. From the moment of conception, this baby was mine." She parts the front of her black robe to reveal the Phoetus pawing at her stomach from within. That is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen on this show. Oh, all right. That is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen on this show that had nothing to do with the way these women dress. Because, you know -- The Horror. D'Eartha grins her way to commercial.
Coronation Central. Dane paces the pentagram as Prior Pock waits patiently before The Grimoire with his hands clasped. Dane finally stalks over to Pock and screams, "Give me the oath! I want my power!" Not so fast, screamy-boy. D'Eartha blazes in, the promise of a world of pain in her eyes. Said eyes flip beetle-black as she announces that she carries The Source within her. I'd start calling her The D'Ource, but it's so not worth it at this point. Prior Pock bows his head in obeisance, followed by the various members of The Council arrayed on tiers around the pentagram. Dane blusters that it's all some dirty D'Eartha trick. D'Eartha ignores him to announce that she's brought The Council a gift. She turns and conjures up Lurch's cage, with both Phoebe and Raige now imprisoned therein. Dane starts bitching up a storm about the Charmed Ones invading Hell's sanctuary and otherwise harshing all over D'Eartha's buzz, so she fries his ass with the death ray. Prior Pock approaches Phoebe and Raige and inquires of D'Eartha if they are to be the "human sacrifice" associated with her coronation. "Human sacrifice?" Raige blurts. "I didn't know that was part of the plan -- did you?" she asks, turning to Feebs. The Feebs remains strangely silent on the topic. Either they foolishly cut Phoebe's response in the editing room, or they're setting her up for a fall of enormous proportions once Piper finds out that her sister participated in a human sacrifice when she received the title of Queen Of All Evil. Something tells me the bong monkeys in the editing bay blew it this time, because I doubt Kern & Ko. would have Phoebe knowingly participate in something like that. It would piss off the hardcore fans too much, and God knows they already want Phoebe dead for, oh, everything she's done since Alyssa had Shannen fired. It would be one transgression too many.
D'Eartha speechifies that her plan all along was to achieve this particular goal. Every action of hers for the past several months -- the destruction of the Source, infecting Cole with The Source's power, finagling the dark marriage between The Source and a Charmed One, having those two conceive an heir, and then absorbing that heir into her own body -- was all to vanquish the Charmed Ones once and for all, thereby ushering a new order of evil into Hell. How...convenient. The Phoetus does not approve of his host organism wasting precious oxygen on half-assed justifications for a season's worth of plotlines, and pummels D'Eartha from inside. Prior Pock leads her to The Grimoire to begin the coronation ceremony as Raige snarks, "Doesn't look like she's having any more luck with that thing inside of her than you were." Raige realizes the cruelty of that statement almost as soon as it's flown from her mouth, and apologizes once more to Phoebe. Phoebe tells her it's okay -- the baby was never Phoebe's to begin with. Raige asks for clarification. Yes, Feeble One. Please clarify. Phoebe claims that from the moment it first invaded her body, she knew the Phoetus was "a black hole of evil" and "soulless." How...even more convenient than D'Eartha's revelation. Unfortunately, there is no longer a beast dwelling within Phoebe to pummel her insides as well. Raige giggles, "Phoebe? Told ya so." Phoebe giggles right along with her, drawing the evil eye of Prior Pock. The gals calm down and brainstorm for options. Okay, so for Phoebe it's more of a misty drizzle than a storm, but let's get this over with, shall we? Phoebe realizes that even though magic cannot escape from the cage, magic certainly can enter the cage from an external source. After all, didn't D'Eartha shoot a death ray through the bars in Phoebe's premonition? Raige notes that they could certainly use the Power of Three right about now. Phoebe begins to recite the "To Call A Lost Witch" spell from memory. Of course, she's not grinding up rosemary and taro root in a silver mortar with a couple of drops of her blood while chanting the spell over a lit candle, but I so could not care any less by this point.
Up in the Manor attic, Piper slams the Book of Shadows shut in frustration and asks the Dolt for his opinion. Always a bad idea, Piper. The Dolt crosses in front of her, blathering on about enlisting the aid of a demon, as a glissading noise hits the soundtrack. By the time he crosses back, Piper's vanished. The Dolt, being the Dolt, continues his babbling unaware of his wife's hasty exit.
Down in Hell, Piper swirls into the cage via a cloud of glowing golf balls. Raige and Phoebe give her the bullet on their situation as Prior Pock holds up the Votum Sanguinis for D'Eartha to recite. "Let me get this straight," Piper deadpans. "You guys summoned me to a cage where my powers don't work so we could all die together?" Phoebe reminds Piper that there is no power stronger than the Power of Three. Meanwhile, Prior Pock and D'Eartha spew Craptin at each other. Shafts of blinding white light pierce D'Eartha's body from within to spread throughout the chamber as she levitates up into the air above the pentagram. She hangs there, arms outstretched, as the ground begins to tremble beneath the feet of the assembled. Several demonic acolytes gaze up at D'Eartha rapturously. Somebody's going to be mighty warm in the afterlife for that one, but I'm forced to admit that the Christ imagery here is a hell of a lot more effective than it was the last time they used it. And a hell of a lot more disturbing. D'Eartha presently returns to earth and stops glowing. She turns to confront the Ps, and is delighted to see that Piper has joined the party. That is, until her dreadlocks burst into flame. Heh. When Phoebe's hair flared up earlier, I was too overjoyed at the thought of the Phoebangs meeting their justified and nasty end to notice how much this effect resembles Melanie Griffith as a human torch at the end of Cecil B. Demented. Phoebe supposes the Phoetus's powers are too much for D'Eartha to absorb safely. She urges Piper and Raige to join her in some old-school chanting of the "Power Of Three" spell over and over again in the cage. For those of you who have forgotten how it goes, I shall transcribe:
The Power of Three
Will set us free.
Cunning, no? No.
D'Eartha unleashes her blue death ray at the cage, but the chanting of the Glamorous Ladies prevents it from entering. Prior Pock tenses. D'Eartha adds a second death ray from her left hand, all the while insisting that everything is as it should be. Suddenly, the death ray ricochets off the bars of the cage back into D'Eartha's body. From there, it explodes outwards, torching every demonic agent in the chamber. Among the last to burst into flame is Prior Pock himself. Eventually, D'Eartha goes up in a pillar of fire and smoke, and a blast wave sweeps outwards through the chamber.
A moment of silence, please, for D'Eartha. She had me from the minute she appeared right up until her until her untimely end. Sniff.
The Glamorous Ladies stop with the chanting, and Piper asks, "Where'd everybody go?" She boots the cage open, and the Ps hop out to examine the lonely piles of demonic ash on the floor. "The blast took everyone out," Phoebe realizes -- ever the rocket scientist, she. "I'd say the scales of good and evil just dramatically tipped in our favor," opines Piper. Raige notices The Grimoire, undamaged on its podium. Piper vows to get rid of it once and for all as the camera pulls up and back to take in the Halliwells, victorious.
Manor parlor. Phoebe glums on an overstuffed armchair near Raige as the Dolt orbs in to confirm that he placed The Grimoire beneath "a mountain of rock in the west Andes." Yes, he actually said "the west Andes." Tool. And you'll pardon me, but The Grimoire protects itself from good, correct? So how the hell did the Dolt orb with it to South America? Screw it. One more scene! One more scene! The gals plus the Dolt chatter about vanquishing The Source for the third time in five months. The Dolt's pleased, because now he and Piper can start pumping out the puppies. Not so fast, Dolt. Piper breaks the news that biology and a standoffish gynecologist are conspiring to keep them childless. Raige examines her fingernails while the Dolt pouts. Piper tells him not to worry about it, as there are plenty of options they have yet to explore. She segues into the subject of the letter she retrieved from the wall safe at the Casa Del Sole earlier that day. She hands it to Phoebe, who stares at it for a long moment before retreating from the parlor to read it in private.
Bimbo Boudoir. Cole voice-overs the letter's contents as Phoebe perches on the edge of her bed. "If I'm dead right now," Cole states, "I know it was at your hand. No one else in Heaven or Hell had power over me. Please don't cry. I was dead before I met you, I was born the day you loved me, and my love for you will keep me alive forever." Phoebe leans over the side of her bed to vomit into the carpet. Or maybe that's just me. A breeze flutters through the curtains as Phoebe curls into a ball on her duvet. Cole's disembodied voice groans over the sound of the wind, "Help me, Phoebe." Phoebe bolts upright in bed. "Cole?" she whimpers. Cut to black.
Yeah, I know. Why won't he just stay dead? But you know what? After tonight's train wreck of an episode, I might just welcome him back, and isn't that a sick and sad statement to make?
week, Raige dons a leash as an unnamed (right) Glamorous Lady whips out her trusty "To Find A Lost Love" spell. At long last, it's the fourth-season finale.