...back to the Manor, where Sam's filling Raige in on the purpose of his visit. Seems J.D. is actually "Jonathan David Williams," Sam's charge and future Whitelighter who disappeared in 1955. Sam hadn't heard a thing from J.D. in the fifty years since until that very morning, when J.D. got smacked up by a cheap import outside of "Columbia" "University." What's truly bizarre about the situation, however, is that J.D. is "the same age as he was then -- he hasn't aged a day." "I don't understand it," Sam admits, "but I gotta believe that whoever or whatever made him disappear fifty years ago doesn't want him found now." "Which," he adds a bit tentatively, "is why I need your help." Raige is confounded. "What do you want me to do?" she asks, though Rose McGowan places the emphasis on entirely the wrong words in that sentence, because she is a lousy actress. Just pretend she said it like I typed it out above, okay? Sam was wondering if Raige could help him get J.D. out of The Only Hospital In San Francisco without anyone noticing, of course. Sam can't orb the guy out himself because of the risk of exposure, evidently. Raige has tremendous problems with all of this, mainly because she hasn't seen her deadbeat drunk of a genetic father in three years and now here he is expecting her to drop everything else she has going on in her life for him -- and she's got a point, but it's a point that interests me not in the least. Raige does, however, offer to enlist Phoebe's aid.

Or not, because Phoebe's tangled up in her insulting sperm bank subplot at the moment. Yes, "sperm bank subplot." Phoebe's apparently decided that, since the whole Vex Pexter thing was a total washout, she's going to purchase a donor's...you know what? Fuck this. Phoebe makes it disgustingly clear in two or three lines that she's using this as an alternative to dating, and it's all so dimwitted and wrongheaded and annoying and offensive and dull that I'm going to ignore it entirely to move on to Raige striking out with Piper as well, for the Dolt's dragged his unbearable shrew of a wife across town to "some magical quack" -- her words, not mine -- of the Dolt's acquaintance for counseling. Piper does suggest, though, that Raige speak to Agent Murphy about the whole thing. "If he had enough clout to get our identities back," Piper argues, "he should be able to help you out with this." Raige frets about her job interview for a bit, but it's clear she'll have to postpone that. No one cares one way or the other, honey. Raige angrily snaps her cell phone shut and glares at Sam. "Shall we go?" he wonders rhetorically. Raige heaves a tremendous sigh, but exits with him for the hospital.