---

When Bree returned home she was absolutely exhausted after staying out all day with George. As she strode up to her house, a broad smile spread on her face, she turned at the door to smile at George, who smiled back before waving and then driving off.

Still smiling to herself, Bree turned around and gave a small gasp of surprise when she found Andrew standing infront of her. "Oh, hello Andrew.." Bree began in a nervous tone. For a moment Andrew didn't speak, he was obviously searching for something in her eyes.

"Hey," He grunted, breaking the silence between them, "So.. you and the pharmacist guy? Are you guys dating now?" He enquired, and Bree didn't like the look in his eyes. He was obviously furious that she had went out with George. When his mother didn't answer, however, Andrew stared intently at her, at her worried expression, and seemed to gather the worst.

"Andrew, wait -" Andrew turned on his heels and stormed back into the house. Bree sighed impatiently and went after him, her heels clicking as she fought to keep up with him, "Andrew, please don't do this - We can easily talk about this -"

"No, we can't," Andrew said defiantly, glaring at her as he began to climb the staircase.

"Andrew -"

"I said, no!" Andrew spat, "Dad hasn't even been dead three months and you're already letting some other guy eat your face off? Wow, quit being such a whore." He added, goggling at her, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go to bed. And don't bother coming up to see me."

Unfortunately, Bree wouldn't let her son get to her. "How exactly do you know what I do with my spare time? When have you ever seen George and I.." She struggled to get the rest of the sentence out, "..Eating eachothers faces off?"

"Oh, the park maybe?" Andrew replied, "Yeah, I saw you this afternoon - with him. He's such a geek, and probably gay too. But hey.. if you wanna hang around with guys like that, just don't expect Danielle and I to wait around for you when you get back at ten past midnight."

"Why were you at the park?" Bree shot back at him, completely disregarding the rest of what he had just said, "Were you spying on me, Andrew? Well, were you?" She repeated, her voice breaking.

Andrew shrugged. "I was just suspicious. I'm allowed to be, you know. I was just making sure you weren't on your way to a bar or something." Although this excuse seemed plausible, Bree didn't believe her son for a second. Everything that came out of his mouth was a lie, and she couldn't stand it any longer.

"What I do with my spare time is no concern of yours, Andrew," Bree began, almost shaking as she approached the stairs, "And If you don't like it? You can go to hell like your father." She added. As she had expected, Andrew flinched and suddenly went numb. Smirking, Bree turned away from him and left the room.

Shaking with rage, Andrew stood rooted to the spot and played back what his mother had just said. The fact that she even thought that his father had gone to hell made Andrew even angrier, and as he watched his mother turn and stalk off, her heels clicking as she did, he knew with a sickening certainty that he couldn't let her get away with this.

---

The next morning, Andrew woke with a startle. Hearing voices coming from outside, he slowly got out of bed and trudged over to the open window, and peered out to look out at the street, which hadn't quite woken up yet.

To his disgust, Bree was standing by the front door deep in conversation with George. As Andrew stared at him, he felt a rush of hate towards the man who had seemingly taken his mother by force, and was now, Andrew guessed, trying to take her away so he could have her all to himself.

Glancing blearily out of the window still, Andrew's eyes narrowed as George's gaze fell upon him for a split second before returning to Bree. Andrew relaxed, and then turned away from the two of them. He didn't need to hear what they were talking about, nor did he care very much. Groaning, Andrew then sloped off to the bathroom to shower.

Meanwhile, George and Bree were discussing their plans for lunch. "So, shall I just pick you up at one?" George was asking, a smile on his face.

"That would be great," Bree replied, smiling back at him, "Well, I suppose I'll see you then. I just wish I didn't have so much to do this morning."

"Wow, I didn't realise you were so tied up," George said sympathetically with a frown, "Why don't you just ask Andrew to help you?"

Bree's smile vanished. "I don't really want to talk about Andrew at the moment. But anyway, I'll see you later, George.." She murmered, and then, without saying another word, she turned away from him and walked back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Puzzled, George shrugged and decided that he would just let Bree deal with whatever problems she and her son were having. Staring back up at the open window, George expected Andrew to be standing there, leering at him. To his dismay, however, Andrew had vanished from view.

Grinning to himself, George Williams turned away from the Van De Kamp house and walked back over to his car. Just as he was getting in, however, Andrew Van De Kamp stuck his head out of the window and glared at him, then stuck a forefinger high up in the air.

Snorting, George merely ignored Andrew and started his car, ready to drive off. Before he did, though, he gave Andrew a putrid look of hatred, which he hoped Andrew would recognise as a warning. Andrew seemed surprised by this, but didn't have time to do anything else, as George Williams had already drove off down the street.