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?
Next 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.