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Heaven's wisdom would tell Aziraphale to never trust a demon. But it would also tell him the only good demon was a dead one.
And Crowley, despite his protests, had plenty of good in him. Nor was he dead, and Aziraphale really would rather he stay that way.
He couldn't live with himself if…
Nonetheless, over the millennia, Crowley had earned his trust. Deserved his trust. And, a century ago, asked Aziraphale to trust him.
So it was the least he could do, really, to hand his oldest friend a bottle of liquid suicide and silently swallow back the worry.