disclaimer: I don't own SPN, BDS, or any of their characters.

Fourth in the Chosen by Destiny series, but can be read separately.

Spoilers for SPN episode 3x11 Mystery Spot. Sam wasn't the only one trapped in a time loop by the archangel aka trickster. Could Murphy stop Connor from martyring an innocent man and save them both from the torturous guilt that followed, or would Murphy break before he learn the lesson that Gabriel was trying to teach? Rated T for anxiety/depression and typical MacManus language.

Wednesday, Wednesdays

Prologue: Martyring

Dean Winchester was bending over the opened trunk of his beloved Impala, putting a shotgun loaded with rock salt into his duffle bag and getting ready to leave town when he felt someone–who he assumed was Sam–approached from behind.

"Are you sure we should just let the trickster go?" He asked, doing the final confirmation to make sure his younger brother wouldn't all-of-a-sudden change his mind, but...

"Dean Winchester."

It was an uncomfortably familiar voice that answered him and as Dean pushed himself straight and turned around, he was confronted by a gun that was pointing right at his chest.

There was a tattooed VERITAS on the naked left hand holding the gun and the blond Irishman was wearing dark shirt, blue jeans, and black woolen overcoat; and had a staunch look on a face that Dean remembered from almost two years ago. A face that Dean hadn't expected to see again.

"Connor." Dean greeted but his tone was strained and tense. "Okay, alright. I already know what you guys went around doing, but there's some misunderstanding between us and nobody wants this to end the wrong way, let's talk about it a sec."

"Then ya should also know tha I can't let a person like ya back on te street." The Irishman said. "m'sorry."

And Conner MacManus pulled the trigger.

XXX

Murphy heard the gunshot and blinked awake.

The first thing he noticed after he scanned the shitty motel room was that Connor was nowhere in sight. This hit him full force and before he knew it, he was scramming–or leaping, as he was trying to put on his jeans and grabbing his jacket to cover his bare chest at the same time–across the room to the door, worrying something had happened to his twin.

What he saw after he slammed open the door and lean over the white railing of the second floor both served to relief and dismay him.

Connor was standing over there, rigid as a statue, and lying before him–bleeding and gasping for his last breaths–on the pavement was their mark.

Dean Winchester.

Seeing Connor safe, Murphy let out the breath he hadn't realize he was holding.

But then there was Sam, hurrying to his brother's side. Disbelief and astonishment and shock and all those conflicted emotions painted his façade.

And for the first time, Murphy felt the slight pang of guilt for what they did.

"No...nononononono... Hey, hey, come on." Sam said, totally ignoring Connor–who was the man that took his brother's life–and hold Dean tightly in his arms. "Not today...not today...this isn't supposed to happen today. Come on."

Murphy slowly descended the stairs to take to his twin's side, watching as the younger man shut his eyes–but not in acceptance but grief–hard and opened them again.

"I'm supposed to wake up."

Murphy could barely make out Sam's whisper as the man let the reality of his elder brother's death sink in.

And then Sam glared up, in tears and pain and accusing.

"Why?" He demanded. "Why did you do that for?"

"We cleanse the world of evil men." Connor stated, making a sign of the cross. "May he rest in peace in Heaven."

"What are you talking about? Damnit!" Sam practically screamed. "Evil men? Evil men? We were the ones to clean the world of evil, to save people from the things that lurk in the dark; you, you on the other hand, just kill and spill blood, in the name of God no less! How could you?"

"Shut up!" Murphy shouted, yanking the taller man by the collar forcing him to let go of his brother's stirless form and into a standing position. But Connor grabbed his wrist, nonverbally telling him to let go.

"Wha're ya sayin'?" Connor asked Sam, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I'm saying if you want to save people so much, go put a bullet in your head." Sam hissed, turning away. "Leave me alone!"

And that was the end of it.

Or so Murphy thought.

He never knew how little it took for one who started questioning his faith to lose his faith completely.

He never knew the incident was all it need for the guilt that had reside in Connor's heart since the very beginning to grow into a disaster that would eventually destroy them both.

He didn't know that they–arrogantly considering themselves to be the flaming swords of God–had already fallen prey to the infamous trickster and his poetic punishments.

And never could he begin to imagine that this was just the first of an endless string of Wednesdays he had to go through.

The Winchesters wouldn't take much part in this story and Murphy would be the main character, so I apologize first to those who wanted to see Sam in action. And I have to apologize to both Dean and Connor cuze I'm going to kill them repeatedly.

Thx for reading, please R&R. I would really appreciate it.