The only vampire that ever scared me as a kid was Barlow in Hooper's 'Salem's Lot', and there's a reason for that. He wasn't suave and sophisticated, he wasn't dashing and romantic, he wasn't a tortured soul trying to come to terms with immortality via the occasional biting of a pretty girl's neck. He was a fucking plague-carrying monster who crashed into your house and drank your parents for lunch. And that's what vampires should be. They're the arrival of a deadly plague in your town, rather than the subjects of a Photoshopped magazine cover.