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Summary: A response to Jinni's five song challenge- Asher is sent by the council to investigate reports of military activity near the Hellmouth

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Anita Blake > Willow-Centered > Pairing: AsherdulcineaFR1855165,32913100123,5132 May 043 Sep 06Yes

Sunday, Bloody Sunday - 6

~Angel’s Mansion, Wednesday, 3:55 p.m.~

Asher was interrupted from Zoltan’s account of his capture by the persistent chirping of his cell phone. He excused himself, walking all the way to the end of the hallway, where he knew the library was empty. “Bonjour.” He answered.

“Is it truly daytime there? Fascinating, I had forgotten.” A nasal whiny voice answered.

“May I ask who is speaking?”

“Ah, yes, hello Asher, this is Benton, of course.” Asher groaned. Benton was perhaps the youngest vampire allowed on Council grounds. He had been a bright physician in his lifetime and was rather useful for keeping the place modernized, but he was an annoying pest. For one thing, he was continuously surprised by what his kind could accomplish, always insisting that it went against all scientific explanations. He also had a tendency to ask the most infuriating questions, “for his memoirs”, or so he claimed. True, he was brilliant and delicately handsome just as Belle Morte’s line should be, but it was tempting to stake the boy some nights.

“Monsieur Benton, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Asher tiredly asked.

“Her majesty would like to speak with you. She asked me to get you on the line for her.”

“Ah. Well in that case, it would be best not to keep her waiting.”

“Indeed, just a moment.” There was a quiet shuffling as Benton carried the phone to Belle Morte. Asher could just picture Benton approaching Her, lounging on her bed framed by the red satin sheets. He would offer up the cordless phone as though it were a sacrifice in her honor, and kneel at her feet so that perhaps he would earn a pat on the head for his good deeds.

“My golden one.” Even over the miles of phone line, her voice could titillate him.

“Mistress, I am here, I hope all is well.” Asher spoke quietly, hoping neither Spike nor Angel
were close enough to overhear.

“I received your letter. I do not want you traveling to Los Angeles. I ordered you to the Hellmouth, and expect you to stay there until I give further orders.”

“Oui, my queen. I am currently on the Hellmouth.”

“That is good.” Asher could hear the pout in his sire’s voice. Something was bothering her, but she was in the mood to stretch this out. If he had been in France he could cater to her petty whims, but he was at a loss at how to coax the information from her at such a distance.

“I am honored that you call me. If there is anything you need from me, I am at your service.” Asher tried the classic tactic of humility, which never went amiss with the temperamental vampiress.

“You sound anxious for this conversation to end.”

“Oh no, my queen, I am only curious.”

“How are you enjoying the Hellmouth?”

“It has been an interesting experience.”

“Really? Your letters sound like you are terribly bored. In fact, I was under the impression that you wanted something else to do.”

“Is there something you had in mind?” Asher winced. Anything she would have in mind would undoubtedly be uncomfortable, annoying, or insanely dangerous.

“Why Asher, you don’t sound enthusiastic to be hearing from me.”

“I am sorry, O Beautiful One, I am not accustomed to being active at this time of day. I apologize if my weariness is coming through the lines.”

“Be careful, my golden boy, weariness can make one sloppy, and sloppiness on the Hellmouth leads to a quick death.” He could hear laughter in her voice, as though the thought of his death was a lovely joke.

“I will keep that in mind. Perhaps you had something in mind to keep me more alert?”

“You are so focused. What ever happened to that playful side of yours?”

“I am sorry, my queen, I must have grown out of it.”

“Well, perhaps you should regain it. After all, you will want to relate with the younger generations.”

“I will?”

“Of course.”

“Sire, what are your orders for me?”

“Such abruptness, is that how Americans behave? What a pity.” Belle Morte sighed. “Here, things are much more refined. We spend days discussing the same topic without anyone resolving to take some action. Of course, that does not mean that none of us make a move outside of our meetings. Rumor has it that Padma has sent his son to the New World to begin the process of positioning his progeny.”

“Ah, that is a very dangerous rumor. Has it been confirmed?”

“Confirmation is such a nebulous term; however, it was significant enough that the Earthmover is making plans to expand his empire to that country as well. His secretary had Benton’s assistance in making the flight arrangements.”

“That is indeed significant.” Asher frowned. Whenever the Council left the confines of the castle, the world shuddered.

“Benton provided you a list of some childer near your location.”


“Do I know any of them?”

“Do you remember l’ange? His sire brought him to court nearly a century ago.”

“The Irish lad?”

“Oui. He and his childer are in the area.”

“Oh, if he’s anything like I remember, he’ll do nicely.” Only Belle Morte could flirt with one man by speculating about another man, Asher thought with amusement.

“He has been away from court for a considerable time and his childe is rather independent.”

“But you are always up for a challenge, no?”

“I will attempt any challenge you set before me, sire.”

“That’s my boy.” She purred, and Asher could almost hear her feline side coming out. “I want you to find those two and train them to take a city, a powerful city at that.”

“I will do my best.”

“Of course you will. They are young, but there is not much competition there. Make sure they are placed well.”

“Oui. Does this mean that you do not want me to follow the military group anymore?”

“Really Asher, must you be so crass. Of course you are to stay your course. After all, that was a Council appointment, and the Council still expects your weekly updates. The last one sounded quite intriguing, what with your speculation that they could be trying to entice the slayer to their side romantically. The more details you could provide, the better. We wouldn’t want the Council to think that you were occupied with other matters than they set out for you; who knows what kind of rumors would resort.”

“But of course.” Asher took the scolding with dignity. “And this week’s letter will hold even more intrigue.”

“Oh? I don’t suppose you can provide a preview.”

“Ah, the letter I sent out two days ago, for you to read this week, includes a description of the impediment that has been adapted for our kind. The letter for next week will undoubtedly include that Monsieur Zoltan is also suffering from this army’s magic. He arrived just before you called, also debilitated.”

“The Zoltan? No!”


“Perhaps you should write a Council letter more frequently.”

“I will post a letter as soon as it is dark.”

“Post two.”

“Of course.” Asher rolled his eyes. He had better ways to spend his day than crafting a flowery letter to his sire and a judiciously edited letter to the Council.

“Very well, you are dismissed.”

“Thank you, my queen.” There was a brief moment of silence and then he could hear the phone handed off to Benton. Before the brat could say anything, Asher hung up. He had gotten off much easier than he had feared. All he had to do was train a debilitated Spike and a angst-ridden Angel to the point where they could sufficiently hold a city in his sire’s name, all while maintaining congenial relations with the slayer in an attempt to take down an army. No problem.

~Angel’s Mansion, Wednesday, 3:40 p.m.~

Riley couldn’t help but let out a small groan as he woke up. While the bedroom was quite lavish, he had spent the night on the floor; giving the bed to Buffy was the only proper option. It didn’t seem to do her much good; she had tossed and turned all night with nightmares that had lasted past sunrise. Or at least he guessed it was past sunrise, although it was hard to tell, given the thick velvet drapes hung in every window.

“Riley?” Buffy mumbled, peeking over the edge of the bed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Riley muttered, sitting up.

“No prob, I shouldn’t sleep all day anyway.” Buffy offered with a lazy smile. “How’d you

“It was better than basic training.” It was the most optimistic answer he could muster without lying.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You look horrible.”

“Gee thanks.” Riley rolled his eyes.

“I mean, you look like you might be coming down with something.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing that a shower and breakfast won’t cure.” And a lifetime of counseling, Riley added in his thoughts. Was it just last week that the Alpha captain was considering applying to officer training school? That dream was surely wrecked. He should probably start considering life as a civilian now. His brooding was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Angel peeked his head in. “Hi Buffy… um… hi.” He glanced nervously from the bed to the floor then seemed to relax a bit. “I heard you guys were awake and figured I should check in.” Riley found that a bit creepy considering how quiet they had been.

“That’s okay, we don’t need any help.” Buffy answered, which seemed to deflate the vampire’s mood.

“Of course not. I know you can handle yourself. I just thought…”

“Wait, I didn’t mean… well, I did, but I …”

Riley watched the conversation, feeling the tension build in the room. “I don’t suppose you have a washing machine?” Buffy and Angel turned to stare at him. “That ventilation shaft was pretty dusty.” Having mentioned it, Riley suddenly felt ten times grimier. The others checked him out and shuddered at the dirt they had ignored the night before. Buffy winced again when she realized that not only did she have the same layer of grime, but also bed hair. Her hand instinctively went up to smooth it down only to realize that it was too late. “Yeah, cleaning up would be good.” Buffy finally muttered.

“Okay, I’ll go check the bathroom across the hall. I don’t think anyone’s changed the towels since Dru…” Angel’s face darkened and Riley could tell he was missing an important part of the history between the other two.

“This was Drusilla’s room?” Buffy clearly wasn’t too happy about that.

“I guess that means you haven’t checked the closet.” Angel mumbled, turning away from Buffy to face Riley. “If you want, I can leave you a clean set of clothes in the bathroom while those get washed.”

“Thanks, that’d be good.” Riley nodded.

“Don’t mention it. It’ll be a relief to wash the misery out of those clothes. Buffy, do you want me to bring you something from Willow’s closet?”

“Why don’t I just see what’s in this closet?” Buffy snarled.

“Please, don’t be like that.” Angel turned back to face the blonde.

Buffy sighed, and counted to ten then faced Angel. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Yeah, if Willow doesn’t mind.”

“Asher bought her plenty in Los Angeles. I don’t think she’ll notice.” Riley watched Buffy’s face cringe at the mention of Asher. “The bathroom will be ready soon.” Angel decided to cut his losses and back out. As the door closed, Riley turned his attention back to Buffy.

“Wow, was that awkward or what?” He tried to laugh but the joke just got stuck in his throat. “Do you want to tell me what’s up?”

“Nothing’s up.” Riley clearly didn’t believe Buffy. “Fine, so I used to date Angel.”

“I’d heard that.”

“It ended badly.”

“I’m beginning to get that impression. Was it another woman, this Drusilla?” Riley blushed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

“It wasn’t that simple.” Buffy sighed. “I wish I could blame it on Drusilla, but it… I don’t think you want to do that.” Buffy was interrupted by Riley getting up and heading to the closet.

“It’s just a closet.” Riley shrugged then turned the doorknob. An avalanche of mutilated doll parts fell out leaving just a few torn and bloodied Victorian dresses hanging in the back.

“Guess she didn’t really have time to pack.” Buffy shrugged.

“This is really creepy.” Riley held up a doll’s head that was blind folded and missing patches of hair.

“What do you expect from an insane vampire?”

“What happened?”

“You should really hear the story from Giles. He’s all history man.” Buffy shifted so she wouldn’t be facing the closet contents. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay, I can do that.” There was a quiet knock on the door followed by a muttered “bathroom’s ready”. Evidently, Angel wasn’t in a hurry to come back inside. “Do you want to take the first shower?” Riley offered.

“How about you go first? I’ve got something I need to do.” Buffy bit her lip in thought. Riley’s upbringing insisted that he offer the ladies first again, but Buffy beat him to it. “You know how girls are in the bathroom. You’d never get a shower. Really I insist.”

“Well, alright, if you’re sure.” Riley ceded the victory to Buffy, following his mother’s cardinal rule to never argue with a lady.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Riley stood up and swayed a bit before he found his balance. His muscles ached and he could feel a headache coming on. A great start to what looked like a great day. Maybe he’d gotten the flu. His mom always warned him about going out in the fall without a hat, maybe that applied to California too.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, sure, nothing a shower and breakfast can’t cure.”

~ Angel’s Mansion, Wednesday, 3:52 p.m.~

Spike watched the mug slowly turning in the microwave. This was just wrong. Drinking blood out of a cup was a horrible mockery of what the true experience of feeding should be. The blood would be tasteless, with no fear or adrenaline to spice it up. It was almost worth starving to avoid the bland Red Cross rejects. He slapped the kitchen counter in frustration.

“What ever did the counter do to you, Monsieur?” Spike had not even notice Asher enter the room. Either he was losing his touch or Asher had perfected the art of sneaking up on people; it was probably a bit of both, Spike thought bitterly.

“Nothin’.” Spike muttered like an insolent school boy. At that moment, the microwave dinged. Spike took the mug out and sarcastically toasted Asher before taking a gulp. God, this was awful stuff.

“You know there are other ways to feed.”

“I’m well aware of that, thank you very much.” Spike took another gulp, grimacing as it went down. “However, in case you’ve not been paying attention, I’m not exactly in a position to hunt.” Spike tried to walk past the older vampire, but Asher stepped in his path.

“I meant other ways that did not cause pain in the victim.”

“Somehow I doubt there is any way to take blood without tearing the flesh, and last I checked, that hurt like a bitch.”

“Surely you can not be so ignorant in our ways not to see the alternatives.”

“What, like having my own pomme de sang? Yeah, I’ve seen them before. Rather lazy to find a pain groupie, I always thought. Besides, it would still cause pain. Nice try.” Spike tried to step around Asher, but again the vampire stood his ground.

“Your understanding of our ways is appalling. Who was in charge of your education?”

“You know the answer to that.” Spike sighed.

“I will have to speak with him later about his failings.”

“You do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a witch to bother.”


Spike stared at Asher. He knew he wouldn’t stand a chance going against the more experienced master, but he also knew that Asher hadn’t yet stood in his way. If the master wanted to make the stand now, Spike was ready to at least try and take him.

“Ma chaton is busy right now. We have another patient with your ailment, and she is tending to his needs. I do not want you to interrupt them. I have a better plan for you.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to follow your plans.”

“That is too bad.” Asher placed a heavy hand on Spike’s shoulder, “because, it is not really your choice anymore. Follow me.” Asher led Spike down the hallway to an empty library, bypassing the living room where Anya and Willow were trying to help Zoltan. As they entered the room, Asher slipped the lock behind him to avoid any interruptions.

“I have been thinking about your problem.” Asher began.

“Well, don’t I feel special.”

“I do not think Mademoiselle Rosenberg will be able to help you.” Asher admitted. “It is true that she has done a remarkable job uncovering the records of the group that did this to you, but even if we know what is in you, she will not be able to get it out. You would need to find the doctor who did this to you, and persuade them to remove it. That will be nearly impossible.”

“Well, then what the hell am I doing here?” Spike resisted the urge to pace, knowing it was exactly what Angel would have done.

“Mademoiselle Rosenberg may not be able to help you, but I think I can.” Asher’s eyes locked on Spike’s. “If, that is, you are willing to learn.”

Spike held the gaze for several minutes, trying to see behind Asher’s poker face. He finally gave up. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch? I don’t understand.”

“What’s in it for you? So far you’ve been acting like some bloody saint, swooping down to
help us poor downtrodden souls. I don’t buy it. What’s the catch?”

“I am offering to help you in a way that Mademoiselle Rosenberg can’t.”

“Help doesn’t come for free.” Spike countered.

Asher seemed to ponder that statement for a moment, a smile threatening to come out. “Monsieur Spike, you like power, no?” Spike arched a brow but didn’t comment. “You do not like being told what you can do by others. Yes?”

“I’m listening.”

“You have traveled extensively in Europe. What do you think of the current governance?”

“What, you mean the Council?”

“The Council, the kings and queens, the city masters, what do you think of all of that?”

“It’s a bloody pain in the neck, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“What if I were to tell you that the Council is thinking of extending the system to the New World? Ah, I see that has your attention.” Asher smiled. Perhaps this assignment would not be as difficult as Belle Morte expected. Of course, approaching Angelus next would be considerably more challenging, but he was up for the challenge. “It would indeed be a pity if your free travels became restricted, if your hunting became limited to the scraps that some master threw to you.” Asher paused to make sure Spike was still paying attention. “Of course, if you were a city master, life would be much easier than if you were a minion.”

Spike saw the bait dangling out in front of him but hesitated. “In case you haven’t noticed, a city master that can’t feed, can’t last very long. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Who said that you can not feed? You can not cause humans pain, but that does not mean you can not feed from them. There is more than one way to drink their energy. Often a master can feed by other means.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“The Council talks of entering this country together, but there are a few who feel the need to, how do you say it, jump the gun? My sire, the head of your line, does not want to be the last one without any cities to call her own. If you agree to represent her here, I will get you the city. I will teach you to be a master, I will teach you to harness the ardeur and use it for your own strength.”

“The ardeur?” Spike perked up. “You’re not shittin’ me here? You can really pass that on?”

“All in our line have the potential; it just takes practice to realize the power.”

“I wouldn’t need to hunt.”

“The women would come to you, ready, willing, and eager for you to taste them.”

“The chip wouldn’t matter.”

“Quite a nice solution to a wretched problem, no?”

“There’s a catch. There’s always a catch.”

“You would have power, you would be able to feed.”

“Your sire would want something in return.”

“Only your loyalty.”

“Is that so?” Spike chuckled bitterly. He had already given his loyalty to a woman for a century, and where had it gotten him? Stranded on the Hellmouth, unable to feed, and dependent on the slayer. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Monsieur Spike, at least take some time to think about it. Mademoiselle Rosenberg may yet find a solution for your problems, but just in case… it is something to consider, no?”

“How long?” Spike asked, but Asher stared blank at him. “How long before I have to give an

“Until I am told to leave, I will be here. The offer remains open.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent. Now, shall we see to the witch?” Asher casually walked out of the library, leaving Spike to decide if he wanted to follow after him. The offer was there, it was now just a matter of time.

~ Dr. Walsh’s Office, Wednesday, 3:55 p.m.~

Graham knocked softly on the doctor’s door. Walsh glanced up at the clock on the wall. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” Graham snapped to attention then glanced at his watch which showed he still had five minutes before the meeting was supposed to start. He glanced back to the clock and then to his watch.

“Well, the general is even later.” Walsh sighed tiredly. “Oh for heaven’s sake, at ease.” Walsh waved him over to one of the chairs facing her desk. He knew it was ridiculous to sit down if he just had to snap to attention the moment General McNamara arrived, but he also knew enough to tread softly when Walsh got in her moods. He sat silently as Walsh typed at her computer.

“Ah, you’re both here.” The General smiled as he entered the office, noting how Miller quickly snapped to attention, almost knocking over his chair.

“Of course we’re both here. You’re the one that’s late.” Walsh stared at the wall clock that was showing ten minutes past the hour.

“I assure you, I’m right on time.” McNamara checked his watch, then the clock, then his watch again. He would be damned before a civilian questioned his discipline. “Soldier, what time do you have?”

Graham quickly glanced at his watch then barked out “Thirty seconds past the hour, sir!”

“Looks like you need a new clock, Maggie.” The General answered with a sneer. He wasn’t about to let Dr. Walsh run all over this project when he had spent so much time in Washington getting the funds approved. If she wanted him to free up funds for the next stage of her project on his trip next week, she’d better recognize who was in charge around here.

“Perhaps, but it never hurts to be early.” She answered bitterly. “Miller, close the door.” She ordered, fully expecting Graham to comply, which he did. “Well, gentlemen, what do you have to say about last night?”

“What do I have to say? What do you have to say? Why did you authorize a full scale assault when I was off-base? You are not in charge of tactical command around here, Dr. Walsh.”

“Would you rather I wait for you to return from your golf game, General?” Maggie drawled in reply. If only she didn’t have to resort to the Department of Defense for her funding, she thought bitterly.

“Well, perhaps that would have been a better alternative.”

“What’s done is done. The question is, what do we do now?” Walsh tried to rein her anger in, knowing that as the woman, she would have to be twice as shrewd and diplomatic as any man just to keep the meager respect she had earned in this world of double standards. “Miller, did you get the squad reports?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, let’s hear it.”

“Right. Alpha: one A.W.O.L, two recovering; Beta, three in critical; Gamma: one in recovery; Delta: two in critical, one in recovery; Epsilon: one in…”

“Wait a minute.” McNamara called a halt. “Where’s Finn? Why isn’t he doing soundoff?”

Walsh didn’t answer, so Miller repeated. “Alpha: one A.W.O.L.”

“Finn went A.W.O.L.!” McNamara’s cheeks turned beet red as he faced Walsh. “How could you let Finn get away?!”

“I told you he was too compliant.”

“I told you he was perfect. What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Walsh shrugged.

“Agent Miller, what are the circumstances of Finn’s departure?” McNamara turned to the soldier and Graham wished for the hundredth time that day that he was not the leader of Alpha squad.

“Sir, Delta squad captured Finn along with two civilians who were evidently in the process of negotiating with an H.S.T.. Finn was put in confinement with said civilians with strict orders to stay at their sides. When said civilians attempted to escape, Finn took the orders literally, and escaped alongside them.”

“And?” Walsh arched her brow.

“And…” Graham looked nervously at the doctor who indicated he still had something left to say. “And he was later seen at the site of the attack, still following the civilians?”

“How did two civilians walk out of here with no one noticing?” The General’s face was slowly shifting from red to blotchy to ghost white.

“We’re still working on that, sir.” Graham coughed nervously.

“Well, obviously our first priority is to secure our perimeters and prevent any more escapes. I would think after the Hostile 17 crisis you would be more careful with perimeter defense. At least we only lost one cell’s worth.”

“Actually, there was another escape.” Dr. Walsh admitted.

“What?!” This time the fury was turned to the good doctor.

“Hostile 247 and Hostile 248 escaped from closed containment units this afternoon. We have no idea how they did it. I’ve already had the tapes reviewed and they’re in there one moment and suddenly gone the next. It’s baffling. Dr. Ramaswamy has been working on it all day.”

“Well, is there anything unusual about those H.S.T.s?” McNamara’s patience was getting thin.

“They appeared just as disfigured as any of the others, and were mostly humanoid in shape. We had just implanted a behavioral modification chip in 247 and taken tissue samples, but so far the lab has yet to find anything far outside our previous ranges of norms.”

“Who did the surgery?”

“Dr. Angleman and I did.” Walsh answered. “It put up quite a fight, but I managed to sedate it before it did much damage.”

“Much damage?”

“It had violent tendencies.” Walsh shifted.

“Show me the damage.”

“Yes sir.” Dr. Walsh reluctantly got up from her desk and led the way out of her office and down the hall. A few corridors away they reached an operating room that looked like any sterile operating room. The large black spot on the wall however contrasted with the orderly furnishings. Taking a closer look, there was evidence of a struggle here; between the torn straps on the gurney and the broken glass on the floor, it was clear a strong H.S.T. had put up resistance.

“What happened there?”

“A ray came from its forehead and struck the wall.” Walsh answered, stepping forward to get a closer look. Instinctively she grabbed a pair of gloves and face mask as she approached. “How peculiar, take a look at this.” She was so busy investigating the new oddity, that she didn’t notice Miller and McNamara come up from behind her, being more careful crossing the room, trying to avoid the broken bottles strewn beneath their feet. Graham grabbed a pair of gloves and face mask, figuring that whatever Walsh found interesting was probably dangerous.

“What is it?” McNamara asked, keeping him distance.

“The spot was just a small burn mark when we left this morning. It’s grown and the paint is forming a bubble from the wall. There seems to be liquid gathering under it.” Walsh poked it tentatively with a tongue depressor from the counter. The paint tore, and white pus dribbled from the wall. “McNamara, call biocontainment stat!” Walsh barked out the order.

‘Great,’ Graham thought. ‘Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.’

Bonus Track 1: "Sunday Bloody Sunday" – U2
I can't believe the news today
Oh, I can't close my eyes
And make it go away
How long...
How long must we sing this song
How long, how long...
'cause tonight...we can be as one
Broken bottles under children's feet
Bodies strewn across the dead end street

But I won't heed the battle call
It puts my back up
Puts my back up against the wall
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
And the battle's just begun
There's many lost, but tell me who has won
The trench is dug within our hearts
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters
Torn apart
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
How long...
How long must we sing this song
How long, how long...
'cause tonight...we can be as one
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Wipe the tears from your eyes
Wipe your tears away
Oh, wipe your tears away
Oh, wipe your tears away
(Sunday, Bloody Sunday)
Oh, wipe your blood shot eyes
(Sunday, Bloody Sunday)
Sunday, Bloody Sunday (Sunday, Bloody Sunday)
Sunday, Bloody Sunday (Sunday, Bloody Sunday)
And it's true we are immune
When fact is fiction and TV reality
And today the millions cry
We eat and drink while tomorrow they die

(Sunday, Bloody Sunday)
The real battle just begun
To claim the victory Jesus won
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Sunday Bloody Sunday...
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