Dsiclaiemr- I don't own Negima.

I'm not sure about this chapter...I don't like it much. i promise next chapter will be better! Thank you for reading, and thank you for reviewing, you wonderful one person. Yuo know who you are. :)

Anyway, enjoy...hopefully. :)

"I want another story about America." announced Asuna.

"Glad to see you haven't become demanding." smirked Al, sitting in his usual position. He wiped his forehead free of sweat. He hadn't had a very pleasant morning. The side effects from leaving his home for that battle against Fate seemed to had caught up with him, and he'd spent most of the morning vomiting.

"America's the land of romance." agreed Konoka.

"And commercialism." snarked Chisame.

"When was the first time you went over there?"

"1492." replied Al swiftly.

"With Columbus?" replied Chisame, understandably surprised.

"Yes, but you wouldn't want to hear about that. It a tale full of hairy old men. What about a tale with a lady in it?"

"Yes!" chimed Konoka, and Chisame and Asuna joined in.

"Fine, fine, all in good time...let me see...it was 1692, in Salem, Massachusetts. I Was under an assumed name, as I tend to do..."

"John? John, where are you?"

Al stood up from the garden he was tending. "Oh, hello, Liz."

Elizabeth frowned at him. "Don't let people hear you call me that. It's unbecoming."

"That's all this place is," sighed Al. "Rules and regulations."

Elizabeth smacked him lightly on the arm. "And especially don't let people hear you say that. Honestly, I really think you want to end up in prison."

"I wasn't born here, you know that. I'm not quite used to all this."

"Like I could forget that you're an English man," replied Elizabeth haughtily. "And you've been married before."

"Yes, well, so have you." Al bent back down and continued weeding the garden. Elizabeth sat next to him, holding up her skirts.

"John, I came to tell you about some news I heard up at the village."

"Gossiping again?" hummed Al.

Elizabeth blushed. "Not really. They say girls have been rolling around, muttering curses and claiming the devil's involved. They say they're witches."

"Witches?" replied Al, slightly alarmed. He knew peoples' aversion to witchcraft and hated anything to do with it. He always generally felt guilty just by being in the area, since he was about the closest thing you could get to a witch.

"Abigail Williams has been spreading rumors." said Elizabeth unhappily.

"Abigail Williams? Isn't she around eleven years old?"

Elizabeth looked sheepish. "Yes, well..."

Al smiled, a genuine smile that he only gave to close family members, spouses, and people that he'd known for more than two hundred years. "Eleven year old girls will be foolish. Don't worry yourself. I'll always be here to protect you."

"My big strong husband," replied Elizabeth softly. She'd originally said that as a joke, as Al's physique was noticeably weaker than their neighbors, but as he'd proved his strength and cunning she'd come to mean it.

"Where's William and Sarah?"

"Off with his friends. I swear, one of these days they're going to kill me with worry, always going off into the forest and playing in streams...there could be Indians!"

"Don't be silly, Indians haven't been seen around here for fifty years."

"But they could always come back..."

Al stood up and brushed off his hands. "I doubt it." He'd made a pact with the Indians that they'd stay away from this area for around one hundred years if he'd come and work as a medicine man for an equal amount of time afterwards. He'd say it was a sacrifice for love, but he had a genuine fondness for the Indian Nations and had no qualms about living with them.

"Dinner's almost ready."

"The children really should be back by now..." he mused.

"You're the one who doesn't like to punish them." replied Elizabeth, her tone betraying only the slightest hint of accusation.

Al put his hands up in defense. "I find no point in needlessly beating a child." Physical punishment was something he'd experienced in excess amount as a child, and he was not compelled to replicate the experience for anyone else.

"That's something I love about you." sighed Elizabeth, heading back inside their log cabin.

Al smiled demurely. He'd cast an aging spell on himself when he'd gotten married to Elizabeth to conceal his immortality. He loved her, and maybe he was fickle for doing so, but he was going to spend the rest of her life with her if he could, even if it meant temporarily gaining a few wrinkles. He followed his wife into the cabin, where he helped her finish dinner.

They only heard rumors of witches for the next month or some, and Al believed it should all die down. That was, until his servant girl accused him of strangling her and Abigail Williams claimed that both he and his wife were witches.

Sometimes he hated humanity.

Things were not helped when his two sons from his first two marriages (as John Proctor), Benjamin and Thorndike, came to town for Market Day (which was exactly what it sounded like). He loved his sons, but both of them were over forty years old and he couldn't pass for over thirty-five, even with the aging spell. Benjamin ended up asking, in a public place, why he still looked so young. He hadn't meant any harm by it, but others had heard and the rumors had started flying. The results were becoming disastrous, and Al was very close to being arrested. Worse, Elizabeth was too. Normally, Al would leave town and settle down somewhere else as soon as possible, but he had a family to think of.

He was walking down Main Street pondering his dilemma when he bumped into a young girl. He glanced down and recognized her as Abigail Williams. She stared at him with big round eyes, and Al smiled at her.

"Are you on your way somewhere?" he asked kindly. Maybe she was responsible for potentially putting him in prison, but Al never blamed children as young as her for things like this. Someone was putting her up to it.

She shook her head wildly. "You're a witch." she whispered, terrified. She ran away from him, leaving him standing in the street with gossiping neighbors all around him. He ignored them and walked into the butcher's shop proudly. He'd experienced persecution worse than this before.

The butcher seemed angrier than usual, and he slammed Al's meat on the table unnecessarily hard. He was greeted with frosty glares wherever he went, and people spoke in whispers around him. This was not good.

When he returned home, Elizabeth was cleaning up the house. Elizabeth's pretty features were drawn, and when she saw Al she breathed a sign of relief. She clutched the rag she was holding tightly, and Al suppressed the urge to run to her. He was far more sentimental than his wife.

"The clergy came by," she said, her voice taut. "They said that we're under arrest for practicing witchcraft. They'll be back in an hour to collect us. I sent William and Sarah to my mother's."

"An hour?" he asked, he asked, his mind whirling. That didn't leave him much time.

"Yes, an hour." she said, her voice cracking.

He had to get moving then if he wanted this to work. turning his back to his wife, he pretended to be distressed while he actually muttered a fertility spell under his breath. If he was going to be arrested of something, he'd better be guilty, damn it.

"I have to protect you." he said calmly.

"What? John, what about you?"

He smiled slightly. "I'm the man, aren't I? I have a family to support. I don't technically have anything to leave you, but if you go two miles south and dig under the oak tree where we met you'll find a little money I put there in case of emergency."

She bit her lip. "What're you planning?"

He crossed the room quickly and kissed her fully on the lips. "We don't have much time."

"Time for what?" she whispered, suppressing tears.

He grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom, where he proceeded to do the only thing he could. the trials would last a long time, and if he could make it so his wife was incapable of being hung he could save her. He was going to be convicted, he could tell. After you'd lived long enough you could tell when your time was up. He'd escape and run to the Indians, who'd be glad to have him fifty years ahead of schedule. First, though, he needed to protect his wife, and this was the best way to do that. A court never killed a pregnant woman.

Elizabeth's normally reserved face was on the verge of tears yet again. Albireo hated that she had to go through all these trials because of him. He hated that their time together had been cut short, and that he'd never be able to spend time with her or his children again. He saw his adult children, Ben and Thorndike, in the audience, along with William and Sarah, there wide eyes round with fear. He was glad his unborn child couldn't see this from the womb, although he was sure it could feel it's mother's pain.

He mouthed three words to his wife, the last words she'd ever hear him speak. 'I love you.' Then the noose was tightened around his neck, and the floor dropped beneath him. The last thing his family ever saw of him was the small smile that graced his lips.

He hated being hanged. It hurt like hell, and his neck would be sore for months. The scar was very visible and very unbecoming, and he'd have it for at least thirty years before his body could catch up and erase it. Worst of all, he hated being buried. Being buried alive was much worse than being hung. He couldn't move or breath or open his eyes, he couldn't even cry. And who would blame him for crying? He would never get to see his son.

He eventually dug himself out of his shallow grave, hoping that there was no one to see. He wrapped some cloth around his raw, bleeding neck and limped off towards the woods where the Indians he'd met with would be waiting. Another chapter of his life had closed. He was no longer John Proctor, but Albireo Imma once again, a medicine man for the Indians.

He considered himself a brave man, and this ordeal cemented that belief. A lesser man would've bawled his eyes out, but he only cried a little.

Konoka sniffled. "That's so sad! Did you ever see your wife again?"

"No. I kept an eye on her from afar, though. Our family ended up populating the majority of the state of Massachusetts." replied Al smoothly.

"Wow," commented Chisame dryly. "You were a player, weren't you? Three wives in one lifetime?"

Al sipped the dredges of his tea smugly. "Chisame-san, one in ten people in the world are related to me, and nine in ten Egyptians are my direct descendants. Even Genghis Khan doesn't have that kind of record."

Chisame crossed her arms. "Sure they are. Nice story and all, but I'm going to get back to reality."

"Reality's a relative thing." chirped Konoka.

"Oh, shut up." grumbled Chisame.

Asuna slung her arm around Chisame's. "Be nice." she teased, drawing out the syllables, and Chisame swatted her.

"Go to hell."

Asuna ignored her. "Thanks for the story, Colonel-san. I'm confused, though. Are you gay or what?"

Al shrugged noncommittally. "I don't have any definite preference."

"Sexually ambiguous." commented Konoka.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand," mumbled Chisame, annoyed. "We'll be back tomorrow."

Al raised his teacup in a mock salute. "Until tomorrow."

Oddly, all three girls simultaneously saluted back without hesitation.

I changed a few facts about John Proctor's past, like his family because history vcan get things wrong sometimes, especially if a mage is involved. XD What did you think? Reviews are love! :)