“Dig Your Grave” - Hypodermic Sally McKenna x Cordelia Goode
Okay so I’ve been looking and I can’t find nearly enough Cordelia x Sally fics. Or like. Any. Maybe this isn’t a popular ship? But this idea wouldn’t leave me alone so here we go! No smut ahead (shocking, I know xD) but man I love this one. I hope you all do, too!!
The first time Cordelia had walked into the Cortez she had been a whirlwind. A firestorm of life and energy and need. It was intoxicating, and Sally couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Wanted to feed off of her. Needed to claim her and take her and make sure she never left again.
“I’m looking for someone, one of my sisters,” Cordelia panted to Iris, hands gripping into the front desk.
“How the hell am I supposed to know who your sister is?”
Cordelia huffed, head tilting to push her hair off of her face. Sally stood behind her in the lobby, edging closer. Drinking her in. Basking in the light that radiated off of her. Drowning in the warmth that dripped out of her pores and pooled on the floor.
“Please,” Cordelia said, and Sally almost heard that familiar break in Cordelia’s voice that always made her go weak in the knees. Desperation. “Her name is Queenie. She’s a witch. And I need you to tell me what room she’s in right now or so help me—“
She cut off, voice wavering, and Sally was toast. It was the last straw. The one thing she could never resist. A broken soul. And so she offered the only thing she could.
She was walking too slow. Maybe it was the drink in her hand. Maybe it was the heavy leopard-print coat. But her steps were too short and too paced and Cordelia didn’t have time for this.
“Can you walk any faster? This is urgent.”
Sally glanced at her over her shoulder, smirking and wobbling across the patterned carpet. The itch running under Cordelia’s skin tripled and she thought she might scream. It was enough that Queenie had ended up here, in this place. This dark, deep hole that sucked every ounce of light from the atmosphere. But the fact that Cordelia couldn’t get to her, couldn’t find her on her own, relied on this woman to guide her through the endless hallways and help her… It was a slice across Cordelia’s ego that she didn’t need. Not when she was already fighting so hard to keep herself together.
“What room did you say she was in?”
“Forty-two,” Sally replied calmly, taking a sip of her drink.
“And how far away is that?”
Sally chuckled, running her tongue over her bottom lip. “We’ll get there when we get there.”
Fingers twitched around the glass. “I heard what you said, baby.”
And with that Cordelia snapped, rushing forward and gripping her nails into Sally’s arm. She growled in her ear. “Listen to me. This is not a game. I need to find my sister. And I am running out of time. So you would do well to take me to her, fast as humanly possible, or so help me you will feel fire and rage and it will not be pleasant.”
All it did was make the other woman smile, tongue popping against teeth as she looked down at Cordelia. She quirked a brow, a hoarse laugh falling from her lips.
“It’s a good thing I’m not human then, huh?”
Sally sat with her ear against the door for what felt like ages, waiting to hear her voice again. Cordelia had blown past her at least fifty times now, Queenie’s hand gripped in hers as they walked determinately down the hallway. It wasn’t going to work. Queenie had been here too long. But if this effort meant that Cordelia would stay, would keep returning and would keep walking past her, Sally would keep her mouth shut.
This time, though, they had fallen silent. The halls had been filled with plans and counterattacks and alternating routes. And now there was nothing.
Cordelia had sat in that room with Queenie until she hadn’t. Until goodbyes had been said and hugs had been exchanged and Cordelia had shut the door.
She glanced at Sally as she left, turning down the hallway and wiping at her cheeks. And then there were tears dripping down Sally’s face and she sniffed, unsure if this particular hurt was for Cordelia or for herself.
Cordelia sat at her desk, hands stacking and re-stacking the same pile of papers. She couldn’t get her out of her mind. That woman, that dirty, broken woman… She clouded her brain, haunted her dreams. There were some nights Cordelia could have sworn she was standing at the foot of her bed.
A ghost, a figment, a wish.
Sally leaned against the bar, twisting a finger through Cordelia’s hair and taking a drag of her cigarette. She waited for her to turn, to flinch, to pull away like so many had before. To leave and call her crazy and shrug the feeling of her off of her shoulders as she fled in the opposite direction.
But Cordelia was different. Sally had known that from the start. And more than anything, Sally wanted to stand by her to revel in the pure goodness that radiated off of her and pushed the grime out of Sally’s soul.
Cordelia shifted, pulling Sally’s hand into her own and turning it over in her fingers. She stared up at Sally, a look in her eyes that Sally couldn’t read. And then something fuzzy spread through her brain, peeling out from Cordelia’s touch and making her heart feel… lighter.
Maybe, if she got close enough, if she kissed her and pressed against her and scraped her nails across her skin, it would stick to her. Rub off on her and into her and feed her from the outside in.
Sad eyes stared back at Cordelia, tears blinked free and dripping down flushed cheeks.
“Why do you hurt?” Cordelia asked cautiously, voice low in the abandoned bedroom.
Sally’s brows pushed up. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Her face contorted.
“You don’t know?” Cordelia tried again, thumbs skimming down Sally’s shoulders.
Sally shook her head. “It’s been so long…” Her voice broke. “I don’t remember.”
She tasted like honey. Like honey and purity and love. Her entire afterlife, Sally had longed to find someone to stay. Someone to cherish her and coddle her and never leave her again. She had dreamed, begged, prayed for a soul. Just one that would stay there with her forever, by their own doing or by someone else’s, she didn’t care. Desperately she had scrounged Liz’s bar, picking up whatever damaged mess she could find in the fleeting hope that this one could change. Could love her. Would be different.
But here, with Cordelia pressed against her and her warmth seeping into every cold inch of Sally’s heart, she was beginning to think she had gotten it all wrong. She had waited for decades for someone to join her here. To waste away beside her until they were cold and rotten and only hers. In that moment, though, with Cordelia holding her so gently that she could positively cry, she realized that what she wanted, what she truly wanted, was life. She missed the heat. She missed the pain. She missed the ache and the joy and the freedom. The freedom to choose who she could be with. Freedom to say no to someone. Freedom to deny her instincts and her desperation and choose to stay with a living being, rather than wait for them to settle for her.
A soft sob escaped her and Cordelia pulled back, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“Oh, no no no,” she cooed, feather-light kisses peppering Sally’s face. “Oh my sweet girl, what ever is the matter?”
She smelled like smoke. Like ice and ash and spice. The kind of smell that got stuck in your nose before you knew it and burned in your mouth long after you had left. Sally was addicting, contagious, and Cordelia was spiraling down a path that was almost as dangerous as the hotel’s hallways. Once you let go, you never got out.
It was with a certain kind of determination that Cordelia gathered the girls in her office, ordering them to shut the door behind them. Queenie owed Sally. Zoe would do anything for Cordelia. And Mallory, well… Mallory seemed to understand Cordelia in a way that she didn’t even understand herself.
The only thing Cordelia could comprehend was complete honesty. It was what her girls deserved, and so that was what she gave them. After a rather long, probably too-detailed explanation, she was met with smiling faces.
Queenie had scoffed at the first mentioned of Sally’s name, but after Cordelia had opened up and sealed her feelings in cement before them, she quieted down, a slow resolve creeping over her face.
“You really want this, Ms. Cordelia?” Queenie had asked, arms crossed.
A slow nod. Not hesitant. Deliberate.
“Not want. Need. More than I need to breathe. More than I need anything.”
Queenie shifted. “But she’s... a mess.”
“She’s my mess,” Cordelia growled back, leaning forward on her desk.
And with that, the three girls nodded back at her, and the plan was set in motion.
It was taking too long. Sally had no idea how much time had passed, but it was too long. The air was starting to press in around her, claustrophobia making her skin crawl. She trusted Cordelia. She did.
But she had existed in this world long enough. She knew not to expect anything other than disappointment.
And so she screamed. She screamed and she wailed and she threw anything that she could get her hands on at that fucking door that never opened. That she stared at every day, waiting.
Cordelia should have been back with an answer by now. But she wasn’t.
Disappointment was bad. Disappointment hurt. But what she was feeling now made her chest split open, ears ringing as her gut twisted. She fell to the floor from the sheer pain of it.
And then she stopped. Froze, curled on the ground, nails clawing into the carpet. Because she realized why it was so agonizing.
She was hurting because she had lost something. But the realization that she had lost it came with the epiphany that she must have had it in the first place.
It may not have been perfect, but a piece of her living self had been sewn back into her soul. It was hope.
“I promise,” Cordelia cooed, Sally mouthing at her neck. “I— ah— Oh, sweetheart. I promise you.”
Sally nodded eagerly against her skin, her teeth replaced by soft kisses and wet tears. A moment later and she was falling against Cordelia, clinging to her with everything she had.
“Is this the last time I’m going to see you…?” she choked out, fingers gripping into Cordelia’s skin. They were ice cold, and Cordelia thought for a fleeting moment that she would miss that feeling. Miss the frozen prick of Sally touching her. Everywhere.
But this would be better.
A harsh sob. Cordelia combed her fingers through thick hair.
Sally watched them from the window. They had arrived in a wave of black. Heels and skirts and frilly umbrellas. It was strange to see her Cordelia leading them like this, all done up in extravagance. When she visited Sally, it was usually silk. Silk or lace or something delicate and smooth and soft.
She stared at her hands, rubbing her fingertips together and relishing in the lack of feeling there. She never felt, unless she was touching someone else. Not her cigarettes, not her alcohol. Not even her drugs. She didn’t feel the needles going in, didn’t get the high. And so after a few months of frustration and anger, she had taken her lack of withdrawal as a blessing and sobered up faster than she should have, given her dependence on the evil little messes. Looking down at Cordelia now, she thanked whatever god sat above her for that gift.
Cordelia was talking to the girls, gesturing around the alley and pointing with a gloved hand. Sally took one last look, burned the image of her into her brain and stepped away from the window, retreating to the comfort of her bathroom.
It was delicate, the way she applied her makeup this time. So unlike the last time she remembered doing it alive. She was sober. She was clean. She was dabbing on her lipstick with such precision she could have won an award. Because this time it mattered. This time was the last time. And she needed to make it count.
Once she was satisfied, Sally dumped her makeup into a suitcase. She threw her clothes in on top of it and zipped it quickly. It wouldn’t be long now. Not long at all. And she still had business to attend to.
“Do you all understand what you are doing?” Cordelia asked, fingers gripping into her umbrella to keep her voice from shaking.
“Yeah, girl,” Queenie said, looking her up and down. “Are you sure you want to be here, though? We’ve got this without you, if you want to… You know.”
“Get a drink?” Mallory supplied dryly, and Zoe nudged her.
Cordelia smiled, despite everything. “I appreciate the offer, girls. And I thank you for it. But I need to be here, with all of you. I need to help or I’ll never forgive myself.”
Three nods. In unison. And then they began.
Sally dragged her suitcase behind her, the soft clacking of the wheels pounding with her heart. How many times had she done this? How many times had she tried to run from this place, denial digging its way into her heart and chaining her to the Cortez with every fiber of her existence.
But this time, she walked slowly. This time, she took a deep breath and pushed the up button in the elevator rather than the down.
She parked her suitcase, her one, small, lonely suitcase, next to her stool.
“What’ll it be?” Liz asked, a knowing look in her eyes as she reached for a glass.
“I guess I’d better make it a good one, yeah?”
Cordelia watched her girls, matching her words with theirs. She was so proud of them, so incredibly impressed with the way each of them had bloomed like a flower. She hadn’t needed to do much. They had come into their powers on their own, egging each other on and forming bonds that pushed their progress further.
A part of her felt guilty, having left them for so long. Having abandoned them countless days and nights to spend time in this cursed building. But as she watched them, their eyes pinned on the ground in determination and their hands locked together, she couldn’t help but feel… Forgiven.
Sally stood across from the reception desk for what felt like days. It was there, right there, maybe ten steps away. And yet it had been a lifetime of walking, wandering, hurting, and longing to get here. The clock was ticking in Sally’s head, though, unnaturally loud for someone who had lost all sense of time within these red walls. And then she took a step forward. And another. And another.
Her finger came down on the bell and the “ding” echoed through the abandoned lobby, cutting a line through the stuffy air.
Iris glanced up from her book, double-taking when her eyes met Sally’s. They flicked down to the suitcase.
“Checking out?” she asked, quirking her brow.
Sally gulped. “Should be.”
A pause, and then Iris nodded slowly. Sally dug into the pocket of her coat, pulling out her key and sliding it across the desk. Iris grabbed it before Sally let go, their fingers brushing. Sally flinched at the contact, the way it burned. The way it always burned when Iris touched her.
A light squeeze, and then Iris was pulling away.
“I’ll miss you,” Iris said softly, pulling the key between her fingers.
Sally nodded, the soft part of her that always ached when Iris spoke.. surprisingly quiet today. Nothing was pinning her down, pulling her brain inside of itself and making her hate every atom of air that surrounded her. It was empty. It was calm. It was nothing.
“I’ll miss you, too,” Sally tried, and for a split second it felt as if she actually meant it.
Iris smiled, nudging her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She turned to replace Sally’s key, puling cobwebs out of the cubby where it used to stay.
Sally nodded, doubt running through her mind as she contemplated the question. But before she could remember what she had forgotten her vision started crumbling and the hotel dissolved around her.
Cordelia watched as the small pile grew larger. Larger. It was circular, too round, but she knew it had to start this way before it grew into what she needed it to be. Her girls were chanting, hands still intertwined. The pile froze.
Cordelia looked between her girls, the confusion on their faces, and panic started to claw its way up her throat. She was in over her depths. She was asking too much of them. And now not only would she lose her Sally, but she would lose the strongest witches in her coven. At the very least she would lose their trust. She scrambled.
“It’s going to be difficult,” Cordelia tried, pacing around her girls and sliding her hand over their shoulders. “It has been decades. Decades of elements hitting this relentless pavement, California heat and rain and wind and whatever else.” She swallowed, trying her absolute hardest to keep her voice steady. “But I believe in you. I know you can do this.”
Her voice was firm by the end of it, but her fingers were sliding against the fabric of her dress, lip between her teeth.
Zoe was first, arm extended and fingers stretched tight as she poured her energy over the pile. Then Mallory. Then Queenie. Cordelia couldn’t do it, though. She couldn’t taint it with her energy. Or everything would be ruined and she would be cursed with a memory that would never be able to separate horror from imagination again.
And so she touched their shoulders, fingers ghosting over fabric, and poured as much of her energy as she could into her three girls. She felt them straighten, felt their auras shift, and then the pile continued to grow.
Falling. She was falling. And the only thing Sally could think of was her hair. It was sticking her her face, flying into her mouth, and she was starting to worry she may choke on it. But then the world around her was filled with the smell of honey and plants and life and green, and she smiled. Actually smiled as her head cracked on the concrete of the alleyway.
Skin first, then hair, clothes, and Cordelia wanted to scream at the fact that there was no life in it. There was no color under the skin, no matter how pale. There was no smirk on her lips. There was absolutely nothing, and she gripped her hands into Zoe’s wrist to keep from rushing forward and shaking her awake.
To keep herself from giving up.
To keep herself from losing hope. Not now. Not when she was right there. So close. So lifeless.
Sally blinked back stars, the loud rushing of the city streets crashing on her ears and making her head split open. Somehow the world was much brighter than when she’d left it, and it was almost painful to open her eyes.
But then she heard a voice. Cordelia’s voice. Felt trembling fingers running down her arms. And her eyes flew open.
She looked like an angel, her Cordelia, with the way the sun was lighting her from behind and blurring her features. Sally’s hand came up, brushing over Cordelia’s skin to make sure. Just to make sure.
Cordelia gasped, hand flying up to cover Sally’s on her cheek.
“Oh, my darling girl,” Cordelia cooed, squeezing her eyes shut and leaning into Sally’s touch.