Manor. Aftermath. Fidgeting. Nattering. Sniping. Eventually, Phoebe realizes that if Chris Of The Spider Woman can still orb, he can still be saved. Phoebe also realizes that Raige can make use of the shillelagh to summon Riley, who might be able to extract them from their current predicament. Just go with it. Raige calls for the stick with her orbing telekinesis and taps it on the floor a couple of times. Riley arrives on his rainbow and makes a few unfunny remarks before whipping out a magical trouser nugget that he sends in Raige's direction while intoning, " Sláinte is táinte." The golden mojo shimmers through Raige's body, and the webbing instantly dissolves, sending her crashing to the floor. You know, if I were Raige, I'd be kicking his dwarf ass right about now. Phoebe's positioned so she's standing on the foyer settee, and the Dolt's loafing around on the goddamned landing, but the little twerp pulls that crap on Raige, who's suspended five feet off the ground? Fuck. Him. The stupid leprechaun snickers derisively. Shut up, you tiny little asswipe.
The Lair Of The Spider Woman. Chris Of The Spider Woman suspends "Untitled in Fiberglass No. 3 (Piper Halliwell)" from the ceiling. The Spider Woman shimmies on over, thanks him for fetching her lunch, and shoves him across the chamber before plunging her Active-Length Press-On Nails into the priceless work of art. Again with the glowing and the head tossed back in ecstasy, only this time, Chris almost immediately drops to his knees in agony. "So divine," The Spider Woman sighs. "What's happening?" Chris gasps. "It's not just her magic I'm feeding on," The Spider Woman reminds my demonically infected yet shockingly pretty yet disappointingly dim husband. "It's her baby's, too. Yours." Now wait a minute. First she knows he's Piper's Whitelighter without ever having heard anyone mention that little fact, and now she knows he's her son? Whatever! WHATEVER!
Manor sun porch. The Dolt scries for The Lair Of The Spider Woman using Rathmere's wand. "I don't understand why this isn't working," he glums. Because Rathmere's dead, you fucking moron. Phoebe ambles over, and the two dingbats chat about Big Gay Chris's daddy issues for a while until the stupid Dolt realizes he should have been scrying for the ex-wife all along. Or, you know, your younger son, you worthless twit. Phoebe passes him Piper's car keys, and the crystal almost instantly smacks down on the Presidio. Do I have time to rave about how stupid that is? I don't? Good, 'cause if I started ranting about how impossible it would have been to maintain a demonic lair on land that's functioned as a military base for two hundred and fifty years, my head would explode. ["Well, the base PX did have a bowling alley. I'll let you draw your own conclusions." -- Sars] And then there's the separate matter of those three dozen skeletal remains littering said impossible-to-maintain lair. If The Spider Woman emerges once every hundred years, they represent more than three and a half thousand years of fine dining. The fuck was she eating all the way back then? Sea lions? Christ, I hate this show. Phoebe bellows for Raige as she passes the Dolt a vanquishing vial. He agonizes over the fact that Piper didn't bless the stuff and how can they manage without the Power of Three and wah until Raige enters with her posse of Stoopid Magikal Kreatures.