Somewhere in the era of "ancient", there was a faerie. That faerie was a bit lonely, so he fired away (*cough cough*) and befriended a vampire.
The vampire had forgotten everything at the beginning. After a million times of failed suicides and fights and banging-head-on-the-walls, finally he accepted the truth that that was what he meant to be.
Then the vampire left the faerie and found a werewolf.
The werewolf worked with him and they were happy. The faerie was watching them, waiting for the love between them to bloom. He was disappointed when he found out that the werewolf wasn't into the vampire.
The werewolf found a warlock.
They became real good friends. They had a great time. They were the best of friends. They shared everything. They each had a significant other, or so everyone thought.
And then everything changed.
The vampire found a warlock too.
The two of them were the other half of each other, with the faerie dominating a big portion of the love. They weren't even a triangle.
And then everything changed even more.
Then they stuffed something up.
Maybe it was something real serious, or it wouldn't cost almost a warlock's life and the rest of the Fizzles and Sparks along with him, or maybe even the Dark Dancers, or even the rest of the mythical world.
And the vampire, the werewolf and the faerie had to give up the two warlocks. That was the price they were willing to pay, to make the warlocks safe, to love them without letting them knowing, to care for them when they couldn't be there.
Then they found the warlocks again, this time starting fresh.
The warlocks had no idea.
Please, please remember me.
Please, please forgive me.
Please, please love me.