The unexpected and oddly disjointed prayer cuts right through Aziraphale's head, interrupting all three the Poulenc record, the wrongly-attributed Shakespeare tragedy, and the 1890 Malbec he'd been enjoying in the shop's back room. The turntable falls miraculously silent; the wine miraculously disappears; the book returns, miraculously, to its place on the shelf. Aziraphale is gone.

He rematerializes at the source of Sunshine's summons, in Spike's apartment. The two of them are clinging to each other, balancing precariously against the kitchen counter, both looking like absolute Hell if one would pardon the expression.

There is another presence - two pieces of it, rather - but he can't bother about that at the moment.

"What happened?" he cries, stepping forward to take Sunshine's arm, half-supporting her. "Are you all right?" The question is for either of them, whichever wants to answer.