Flying by the seat of my pants on this one. Hold on tight, my peeps! I'll try to keep it from being non-sensical!
Alistair McGregor stood at the top of the landing and scanned the room of warm, swirling bodies. His height usually gave him an advantage over most people, but from this vantage point, he could see the entire room at once and all of the local townspeople milling about the large ballroom. That was good, as it meant the less time he would have to spend among the masses chasing down his prey. If this hadn’t been the simplest and most efficient way to find the man he sought, he’d never have come. But time was running out. News of two suspicious murders in the surrounding countryside had reached even his god-forsaken neck of the woods. He’d been planning on making the move, anyway. It was time he discovered just who—and what—he was. And hopefully why. The timing of the little season couldn’t have been more perfect. Of course, it meant mingling with the local gentry, something he would otherwise have avoided at all costs.
He sighed. He didn’t doubt his presence had already been noted by many of the matrons eager to find their daughters a suitable match at this first-of-the-season public dance. For that reason alone he couldn’t wait to escape. Every moment he spent in their presence was a moment too long, too risky. Too inherently dangerous.
There was a time when he’d have eagerly joined in—that happy-go-lucky time before the terrible ‘event,’ as he liked to refer to it. The night that changed everything. Alistair shook his head. Now was certainly not the place to think on that. Not if he wanted to remain in control—and he must remain in control every second among these innocent, unsuspecting folk.
He pushed the hair out of his eyes. It did no good to mourn what could never be—a normal life. Already his blood pressure was elevated. He closed his eyes a moment and focused. He could do this. He must do this. The man he was after, although unknown to him, would surely sense his presence as easily as he himself could do, and give himself away. And then the chase would be on.
The heavy scent of perfume mixed with fresh lilacs washed over him in a nauseating wave. He gasped and quickly shut down that sense, too, breathing through his mouth. The over-stuffed rooms were as gaudy in décor as they were suffocatingly hot. The worst possible place for a man like him. He felt trapped. This was as horrible as it was dangerous.
Nevertheless, his mission must be completed. Ignoring the curious glances as he descended the stairs, he had one moment of distraction. Eyes too big for a small oval face caught his from across the room. Against the balustrade, a petite, dark-haired young woman gazed boldly in his direction. With a flush self-consciousness at the heady contact, every hair on his body angled like tentacles toward her. He’d never in his life had such an instantaneous reaction to a stranger. He felt caught as if in a hunter’s trap. His gut clenched; his heart raced. She was lovely. Correction: stunning. He knew immediately that she wasn’t the target he was after, and yet why such a visceral reaction? He didn’t know, and he didn’t dare take the time to puzzle it out. If he wasn’t on the trail of vicious murderer, he doubted his ability to resist her mesmerizing allure. He turned away just as the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. There. To the right of him, just passing through that doorway. A tall man, taller than him, turned his head slightly. Recognition. Yes. There you are, you bastard.
Alistair’s first reaction was to shove through the crowd, but that would have drawn too much attention. He took a quick glance back to see if the lady was still watching. She wasn’t. A gentleman had approached her. Good. Better for her if she never laid eyes on him again. With his haughtiest air, he tilted his chin as if the crowd was beneath him and made a beeline to the doorway through which the man had passed. No doubt there was an exit somewhere on the other side. Hopefully, that was where this would end.
It was more difficult getting through the throng than he’d thought. Alistair followed the man’s trail out the back, through the kitchen, and then down the sloping, manicured grounds toward the rocky shoreline below the elegant mansion on the bluff. A full moon highlighted the scene and glimmered on the distant water in shimmery waves. The coastline there was still wild and unspoiled, just as he preferred it. A gravel trail led down to the shore in a long, gentle path, but Alistair had no time for that. Approaching the bluff after ensuring the coast was clear, he leaped, the folds of his greatcoat flapping like wings behind him.
The flotsam of a recent storm pushed up against the rocky cliff, and would have made traversing the shoreline difficult for most. Not for him. Or for his quarry, unfortunately.
To the south lay endless beach, but to the north a cavern had been carved into the hillside and before him yawned the entrance to the cave. Being unfamiliar with the area, Alistair didn’t know how deep it ran, but his opponent hid inside, he was sure of it.
“You cannot escape me,” he called as he stepped inside the entrance.
“I have no quarrel with you!” a man’s voice rang out from deeper within.
“But I have one with you, I'm afraid. You prefer weak, helpless people, do you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The girl. She was only sixteen.”
“Who are you—the law?” The man growled low.
Alistair acknowledged it with one of his own. “Just someone who doesn’t like senseless killing. And you are?”
There was a brief pause, then the man spoke again. “Why I should answer to you, I know not. But you can call me Adam, as I am the first.”
That gave Alistair pause. The first? Of how many? He’d assumed he wasn’t the only one, but this man’s trail was the first he’d picked up of another. Just how deep and far did this lunacy go? He took another step inside.
“Come no closer. You will not like me when I’m cornered.”
“I do not like you now. Is that what happened?” he asked, taking a casual step forward. “She cornered you? Or did she reject you?”
Instead of becoming more belligerent, ‘Adam’ laughed. “They are strangely drawn to the power we exude, are they not? Then they turn in horror and run from it. It isn't fair. What? It has never happened to you?”
“No. And it never will.” God willing. “Not for me, nor again for you, if I have anything to say about it.”
“You dare challenge me? We are the same, yes?! I can smell your animal stench from here.”
Alistair hung his head. It was as he feared. Bridgewood’s path of destruction was deep and wide. That the elderly physician who’d used him, and obviously others, as guinea pigs for his demented experiments had died recently of pneumonia was his only saving grace. Now it was up to those who survived to stop the madness. If they possibly could. Only time would tell.
“It only gets worse, you know,” the man said softly, unraveling Alistair’s hopes. “You think you are strong, now. Just wait. Your day will come.”
A feeling of dread snaked through Alistair. No. He would die before that day—before becoming more beast than man, as this man had obviously already done.
“You know what you must do when a dog goes mad, right? Shoot it.”
Alistair looked into the darkness of the cave. The outline of the man was clear to his extremely sensitive eyes. Was he asking for a mercy killing?
Suddenly Adam laughed. “But first you’ll have to catch me!” he yelled and tried to speed past him to the open shore. Alistair was nearly caught off guard. Thankfully, the man was more interested in escape than a fight or else he may have been seriously hurt. As it was, the beast swiped at him with his claws as he passed, tearing a sleeve and cutting razor sharp grooves into his upper arm. Alistair got in one good swipe, himself, as Adam rushed past him, and knew from his yelp of pain that he’d done damage of his own. And then Adam sped down the shore in a four-legged gait that left Alistair shuddering at the sight. There had been whispers in the countryside. The word ‘werewolf’ had been bandied about more times than he could count. As he listened to the receding howls, he almost believed it. Was that truly his fate, as well?
Keeping watch on his prey, he quickly wrapped his neck cloth around his shoulder tight enough to stanch the bleeding, then was about to take off after him when a noise just in front him stopped him dead in his tracks. From the rocks above, a slight form dropped down to the sand with a gasp, his white leggings bright in the moonlight. Fearing for the boy’s safety should Adam turn and see, Alistair squelched his desire to follow the beast and covered the boy with his cloak instead, pressing an arm around his middle and a hand over his mouth, in case he had the idea to scream or some other such dangerous thing. And immediately he realized his error.
Alistair sucked in a breath. The body he held, though short and slight, was no boy, nor even that of a young woman—but a sensual, curving form that was both soft and firm in his accidental embrace—and such a piece of heaven he’d never thought to feel again! A myriad of sensations flooded him. The lips beneath his hand were soft, and warm breath from her nostrils fanned out over his knuckles in quick, jagged breaths.
He tamped down his body’s reaction as swiftly as he could and waited a couple of beats before feeling satisfied that Adam had continued on down the shore with no intention of returning. Then without thinking he literally threw the woman from his arms.
She stumbled backward over a stone and went down on one knee in the rocky sand. “Ow!”
“I beg your pardon!”
Brushing off non-existent leaves and debris, she stood to her full height (which was to say, not very tall), hands on her hips. Then she pushed back her hood to reveal dark, silky tresses, and eyes that shot daggers at him.
“You!” They spoke the word simultaneously.
So the brief moment of eye contact at the dance which had produced that powerful pull had not been a figment of his imagination. Away from the crowd in the intimacy of night, it staggered him with its strength. Her reaction told a similar story.
Alistair stammered. “D-did I hurt you?”
“No.” She rubbed a knee. “Not that you didn’t try. Was it necessary to use such force? I’m hardly a threat to such a giant of a man.” Those hands on the hips again. Alistair smiled—something he hadn’t done in a very long time—then just as quickly worked to school that idiot reaction from his features. In truth, he’d never felt so entranced and simultaneously intimidated in all his life. “Y-you surprised me. Please forgive me.”
“I heard a noise—”
“—and thought to investigate? In the dark of night. Dressed in . . . .”
“A gown? Yes, well, it wasn’t planned, I assure you,” Disgruntled but not embarrassed, she scratched her head and looked around, then down the shore. “Did you—”
“An animal. I heard it, too. Ran down the shore that way. But you’re safe now. He's long gone.”
She eyed him again, that curious mixture of expression that said, ‘I’m not sure I believe you, but I’ll refrain from commenting just yet.’ He could get lost in those eyes. Quickly coming to his senses, he remembered his manners. Starting to bow, he said, “Do forgive me, Mistress. I am—”
“Injured! Your arm, the wound is bleeding profusely!”
“What?” He’d nearly forgotten the slash in his upper arm. Now, suddenly, the pain returned in a searing wave.
“What was it, a wolf? Cougar? I’ve heard of some in these parts. Oh, but it must have been a bear to have mauled you so high!”
Mauled was an awfully strong word for such a scrape, and he didn’t like the sound of it. He quickly covered his bleeding arm. “It’s nothing, I assure you.”
“It certainly is not nothing!” she argued. “Sir, please let me return you to the house. Our man-servant is quite good at treating wounds. He takes care of all of our horses, as well.”
Well, hell. That was an uncomfortable thought. Alistair stepped back when she tried to take his arm. “My lady—”
“I beg your pardon?” He suspected he would be doing a lot of that if he didn’t escape this dangerous woman rather quickly.
“It’s Miss Reynolds. Miss Rebecca Reynolds.”
Damn. And unmarried as well. Could the situation be any stickier? “Alistair McGregor." He finished his bow. "Please, Miss Reynolds. I assure you, I’m fine. You should return to the house at once. Let me escort you to the trail head and I’ll be on my way.”
She blinked. Yes, he’d obviously realized she’d climbed down the hard way. “But you must come inside, Mr. McGregor. I insist. Your wound should be tended immediately or it could fester.”
The only thing festering was his broken heart at being in the presence of such a beauty. So tempting . . . but it could never be. And the longer she remained outside with him, the more dangerous it was for him—and for her—in so many ways. “Miss Reynolds, you must realize we can’t return together.”
She blinked again and he watched as sanity slowly returned. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh. The sooner you return, the sooner I can leave and see to my own injury. For I’m not about to leave you here by yourself.”
Apparently deciding his words made sense, she rallied. “Then please do escort me to the trail head at once, then give me your direction so that I may call on you tomorrow and verify you are well.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I absolutely insist and won’t leave until I have your word.”
He frowned. The house wasn’t fit for visitors yet, but they were at a standoff. He couldn’t risk Adam returning with her there, and every minute spent in her presence was sheer torture. “Bridgewood,” he said finally.
“Bridgewood? As in Bridgewood Manor?”
“You know of it?”
Last Edit: Jul 16, 2014 0:13:35 GMT -5 by Windflwr
Post by Savana_ Dying for season3! on Jul 16, 2014 6:11:19 GMT -5
Alistair's POV!! Could this fan fic be more perfect??!! I suspect it WILL! Thank you so much Windflwr! I already can't wait for next chapter! it feels exactly like waiting for a new BATB episode. Oh, lady! you don't know what you have done! you'll have us all here, a bunch of crazy beasties, constantly pushing you and craving for this wonderful story to continue developing!
Totally agree with @socmom, you certainly have a GIFT and we are so honoured that you decided to share it with us!
I so enjoy reading your fan fic Windflwr. You draw your readers deeper and deeper into the story with each new chapter. It's really hard waiting for the next installment. No pressure .. LOL ... As @socmom has said, you certainly do have an amazing gift!!!
Post by hopefulromantic on Jul 16, 2014 11:10:23 GMT -5
Yay!! (Yes, I jump up and down and clap my hands when I see a new chapter!)
This is WONDERFUL! I have always enjoyed historical romance, but reading one with KK and JR's faces in my mind is even better! You've set the scene perfectly, making it very enjoyable to read. Your writing skills are incredible as always, Windflwr!
with everyone Sybil you have an exceptional gift, you're such an amazing writer Thank you for posting so quickly You effortlessly manoeuvre from present day romance to historical romance and I LOVE IT!!!! Can't wait to see what happens next when Rebecca and Alistair meet again (oh man it's getting so good) Thanks for the heads up hopefulromantic
Rebecca tilted her head at him. “You’re staying at Bridgewood manor?”
“But that house . . . ”
She shook her head. “Never mind. My cousins and I played there as children. We thought it haunted. It was vacant for years, although I had heard an elderly gentleman lived there on and off.”
One who was quite reclusive, at that. It was no wonder they thought the property was inhabited only by ghosts of the past. When Alistair learned the astounding news that the doctor had died and bequeathed his estate to him, he traveled there at once. What he found could only be described as sadly neglected. He hadn’t ventured into all of the rooms just yet, for fear of what he would find, but he had no doubt there were spirits dwelling within—probably crying out for justice.
“My lady, once again I assure you of my well-being. Let us part here, then, and say our good-night.” Drat. He’d meant to say ‘good-bye,’ but a different word had rolled off his tongue in the end. Entrancing Miss Reynolds caught the slip-up and took full advantage.
“Good-night, then, my lord. I will check on you on the morrow.”
Before he could respond, she ran off toward the gaily lit dwelling.
As soon as Rebecca re-entered the ballroom, she was pulled aside.
“Where have you been?” Jessica Breckenridge, her best friend and only confidant besides her beautiful but immature little sister, literally tugged her down the hall into an empty room and closed the door.
“I-I needed some air—”
“Rebecca Reynolds, I know you better than that. A little while ago I saw Caleb Darrington coming out of an upstairs closet—the very closet I saw you enter not long before—and he was rubbing his leg.”
“Did he look angry?”
“Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t want to meet him in an alley this night.”
Rebecca glanced about the room. “Is he still here?”
“I saw him leave the house shortly after. I was afraid he was looking for you. Wherever you hid, I assume he didn’t find you.”
“No. No doubt he ran to his daddy to complain.”
“What was it this time? Did he use force?”
“I’m quite all right. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Rebecca sighed. She would have liked to have taught him a lesson, but Caleb was the sort to not only get angry, but to get even. She didn’t relish their next encounter. She waved her arm. “Never mind him.”
“Becca, the pressure his father can put on yours could cause you both all kinds of trouble.”
“Don’t worry, Jess. My father may be meek and mild, but he won’t sell me to Darrington for any amount of money or coercion. He knows me too well.”
“I’m thankful for that.”
“Besides, I’ve got my eye on someone else.”
Jess grabbed her arm. “Say, what? You met someone . . . tonight?”
Rebecca smiled mysteriously. “Perhaps . . . .”
“Oh, no you don’t! Tell me all, or I’ll go straight to your father and explain who was really responsible for that kitchen fire last year.”
Rebecca’s mouth fell open. “You wouldn’t!”
“You know I would. As soon as I do, Isabella will start babbling and the whole story will come out.” When Rebecca still looked as if she intended to hold her tongue, she added, “I didn’t see you on the dance floor, so just who was the man and where did you go?”
Rebecca realized she had no choice, although for some odd reason she felt strangely reluctant to speak of him. There was something . . . . Finally, she tilted her head at her friend. “Did you see the very tall, dark-haired man that came in—the stranger?”
She watched as the wheels turned in Jess’s eyes. “You don’t mean that haughty one, do you?”
Rebecca frowned. He hadn’t seemed haughty at all to her . . . . “Hmm. I don’t think so. Well, in any case, I left the house after running out on Caleb and went down to the beach—”
“At this hour of the night?!”
“You know how I can get. I needed the sea.”
Jess clucked her tongue. “One of these days, that penchant for going off on your own in the dead of night will be the death of you, Rebecca Reynolds. What happened?”
She hesitated a moment. “He . . . he was already down there.”
Jess gasped. “You met him alone, on the beach, in the dark?! And with two murders in the county!”
“Shhhh!” Rebecca paused to listen, but all other sounds were distant, but best not to take risks. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It was a mistake, obviously. An unplanned encounter on both our parts—so you can stop assuming he followed me out there. He didn’t. In fact, I surprised him. And speaking of murders, there was an animal on the beach.”
“An animal? Like a wild dog, or—?”
“I didn’t see it, but it must have been bigger than that—it injured him—Mr. MacGregor. Alistair MacGregor is his name.”
Jess grabbed Rebecca by both arms. “Injured? Where is he now?”
“He wouldn’t come in.”
When Jess frowned, she continued. “He was a gentleman, Jess. He didn’t want me to be seen returning to the house with him. You see? He’s perfectly safe.”
Jess’s lips flattened to a tight line and shook her head. “Safe, huh? You’re going to be the death of me, you know that? MacGregor, was it?”
“I’ll find out more about him soon. He apparently just moved into the old Bridgewood manor. I intend to call on him tomorrow to ensure he is well.”
“Bridgewood?” Jess shuddered.
“I need to get back to the ballroom before my sister starts to worry, but what are you doing tomorrow morning, by the way?”
Left staring after her in the darkness, Alistair pulled the blood-soaked scarf from his sleeve and inspected his wound. The bleeding had nearly stopped, not that it looked any better. Best that he not frighten the other ball-goers and re-enter the party in torn and blood-soaked clothes. He skirted the garden on the north side and hurried to his waiting coach.
“Charles!” he hissed through the darkness.
“Here!” His coachman turned, an un-lit cheroot clenched between his teeth.
“Ready the horses. To the manor. Hurry!”
Charles spit out the cheroot, scrambled up to the boot, and had the coach in motion before Alistair could latch the door. Good man. He was always at the ready. Alistair knew his friend and assistant would have a dozen questions on the tip of his tongue, but he held it in check and did as he was ordered.
As soon as they entered the house, Charles tore off his wig and the uncomfortable groom’s uniform he’d been wearing. “Blimey! How do they do it? Everything so tight and itchy!” He turned to Alistair. “And must you call me Charles? It sounds so formal. Only me mum ever called me that.”
“As soon as I get on my feet again, financially, I’ll buy you a better quality uniform. For now, I’m afraid you’ll have to endure it. Appearances are everything to these people.”
“Yes, well, me name’s Charlie, either way.”
Alistair smiled. He’d taken in the younger man after Charlie had found him, dazed and bloody, one night on the streets of city. His knowledge of medicine was more instinctual than from actual learning, but he’d proven himself a willing and able apprentice. More importantly, he’d become a friend—the only friend who’d seen him at his worst and hadn’t run. Charlie had a natural curiosity, a fearless resolve, and a reckless abandon for justice and adventure. Being also destitute and orphaned, he was the perfect companion and had willingly agreed to follow Alistair anywhere in exchange for food and a warm, dry bed.
But while Alistair could move around in upper circles with ease because of his schooling and background, Charlie could move just as easily in the bowels and trenches. Together, they made a pretty good team.
Alistair loosened his own neck cloth and hung up his greatcoat before moving into the green salon, which also doubled as his study, and pouring himself a stiff drink.
“You’re hurt!” Charlie followed him over to the cabinet and inspected his arm.
“You found him, then? So quickly? I feared we’d be here for weeks before you located the villain.”
“I told you, everyone loves a party.” Especially hunters looking for their next prey, he mused. Where else, but a public dance in the country with all the local gentry attending, could the picking be easier? Although what the man’s motives were, he didn’t yet know.
“Guess you weren’t there long enough to dance, hey?”
“What?” Alistair turned from wrapping his upper arm in a clean bandage.
“I saw them frilly ladies, dozens of 'em, goin’ in. I have to admit to feeling a teensy bit envious of you.”
“I wasn’t there to dance, and you know it. I was thankful to have spotted him right away and able to leave the building so soon.”
“Ach, you ain’t any fun a’tall.” Charlie picked up the white lawn shirt Alistair had discarded and scrutinized the shredded sleeve. “Gore! He’s a mean one, eh? What happened? Did you kill ‘im?”
“Injured him, although I don’t know how badly. He ran off when—”
Charlie looked up when Alistair unexpectedly stopped.
“Uh, I mean, he escaped me and ran off down the shoreline.”
“But you seen his face?”
“I did. And he even gave me a name—Adam—although Heaven knows if it’s real or an alias. I’ll do some checking in town tomorrow. Oh.” He suddenly remembered he might have a visitor. “I . . . met a few people there. If anyone comes calling, be sure to turn them away.”
“Don’t want to get too friendly with the natives, eh?”
“That’s right. We’re here for a reason, not to socialize.”
Charlie hung his head and Alistair knew what he was thinking. Back in town, he was constantly trying to get him to meet women. A good-hearted lad who too easily saw the best in people, Charlie had a tendency to forget what Alistair was—or had become—as a result of the ‘good doctor’s’ experiment. He would do well to never forget it. Until they found a cure, and there was a big ‘if’ attached to that hope, getting close to anyone ran a huge risk for all involved.
Alistair patted Charlie on the back with his good arm. “Lad, you know the kind of life I have to live. But that doesn’t mean you have to, too. It’s a terrible burden you’ve taken on—agreeing to be my man. I’m appreciative of all your help, but you’re free to go at any time. You know that.”
Charlie looked at him, and Alistair saw wisdom and suffering in far greater depth than one could imagine a young man having. “Where else would I be goin’?” he asked.
Long ago Charlie had admitted to being ‘out of sorts’ with the law and other parties ‘to remain nameless.’ It was one reason Alistair hadn’t minded agreeing to the partnership. They both had a hidden past and preferred to keep it that way—at least to others. He wouldn’t agree unless the lad knew the truth, though, so he’d told him—every last horrific detail—that he himself knew. Charlie hadn’t blinked an eye. In fact, he grinned. And so the partnership had begun. Once, shortly thereafter, trouble came knocking. If Alistair hadn’t been there, Charlie would no longer be among the living. Now they both owed each other a debt that bound them together—for, hopefully, a very long time to come.
Alistair hugged him. Charlie didn’t like to be touched, but he didn’t refuse the brief sign of affection. Just as quickly, he made an excuse to go ‘rummage up some grubs’ and quit the room.
How much should he tell the lad about Rebecca? Would she come as she promised? Anticipation warred with fear. He felt strongly drawn to her, but would that ‘pull’ spell disaster for them both? He ground his teeth together. No. Until he could find a cure—and one possibly existed in the old doctor’s notes right there in the house, if he could find them—lovely Rebecca must be discouraged from seeking him out at all costs . . . .
Windflwr thank you LOVE IT, Amazing as always. Loving the new characters Jess and Charlie (reminds me of Tess and JT) glad that both Alistair and Rebecca have friends to confide in. Can't wait till Rebecca pays Alistair a visit So excited for your next chapter
alwayscrazedbatbfan: Food for Beastie Thought and Consumption---At what moment did you KNOW that VINCAT were meant to be? Was it a particular line or scene? Did they fall for one another at the same time? WAS it fate or choice?
Jan 19, 2017 17:33:28 GMT -5
BeastieBoy: As soon as Cat said "You're him" in the Pilot.
Jan 22, 2017 2:38:47 GMT -5
alwayscrazedbatbfan: Oh, but that MOMENT on Vincent's bed when he tends to her wounds. And then when he tells his story, and she touches his face JUST so sad and feeling his pain. The Pilot was just MADE for those special VinCat Moments!
Jan 25, 2017 19:19:46 GMT -5
alwayscrazedbatbfan: FELLOW BEASTIES, check SERIES REWATCH thread to confirm date and time to start the BATB REWATCH with the beloved "Pilot" episode!!! Whohoo! Sharing romantic VinCat journey with fellow Beasties again!! COME WATCH WITH US!!
Jan 26, 2017 10:10:10 GMT -5
DayaBEASTS4: Catherine Chandler Happy New year dear! many blessing and happy moments to you and all forum lil late but intention is what counts
Feb 1, 2017 18:57:29 GMT -5
alwayscrazedbatbfan: I agree, Daya. It was Love at First Sight, even if neither of them realized it at the time. (And he was secretly following her and checking in on her all those years later. . . .AND saved that newspaper article that let him know who she was!
Feb 8, 2017 18:02:33 GMT -5
alwayscrazedbatbfan: Beasties, don't forget WEDNESDAY NIGHT BATB EPISODE REWATCHES!!! Experience the joy of revisiting VINCAT MOMENTS with fellow Beasties! Come watch with us!
Feb 8, 2017 19:56:55 GMT -5
alwayscrazedbatbfan: HEY DAYABEASTS4!! Was wondering where you were at! We are doing the episode rewatches under the "Series Rewatch" thread. Just so it is easy to find. However, if others want, we could open a New Thread each week under the episode title. LET ME KNOW!
Feb 22, 2017 21:05:11 GMT -5
alwayscrazedbatbfan: Would LOVE to have more Beasties involved in the rewatches. You really DO get so much more out of the episodes when knowing where the series is going to go. There is SO MUCH I MISSED in 2012 when it first came on!
Feb 22, 2017 21:06:26 GMT -5
alwayscrazedbatbfan: Hey, DVD box set of the series being released!! Anyone know what is specifically contained in the box set as far as extras???
May 3, 2017 16:44:31 GMT -5
AlisongladaboutSeason4: I'm sorry to say that the complete lack of info about the special features on the Complete Series Box set leads me to believe that there will be NO new content, just a repeat of the special features on the individual series box sets. Hope I'm wrong though!
May 25, 2017 15:09:33 GMT -5
Mei: Millions of thanks, you are fantastic !! If I have seen and read things from her, it was in case you had interviews that I had not read like Rolling Stone.Videos yes I saw hundreds, but I like to read them . Thanks, thanks!! Happy Thrusday!!! Mwahss!!
Aug 24, 2017 8:15:34 GMT -5