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It's not really that much less painful. The smell of smoke and terror stays sunk deep into the very roots that keep the house up, filling every room and settling on Derek's consciousness every waking moment. Paint can't cover the lingering smell of fear and terror that hits Derek like a wave when he wakes up in the morning.
But the thing is, when Derek opens his eyes, he does it next to Stiles, warm, snoring and adorable. He hears the sounds of his pack stirring as the sun blinks through new glass windows.The world is quiet, at peace with the wood and the lone house it hides. His panic inches it's way downward, the scents melt into the background; not gone, but not the constant throb they used to be either. It's better, and that is all Derek needs.
Derek inhales, breathes in the ghosts of his old pack and the heartbeats of the new. The Hale house will never stop being a weight on his heart, but thats okay, Derek realizes, it's really, really, okay.